Time
by castielfelland
Summary: Cardverse!AU Let me tell you something about time; no matter what you hope it will do, in the end, it always screws you over. The problem is, Alfred doesn't know that. Yet. But given the time, he will, especially when time brings so much oddness into his life in the form of one Arthur Kirkland. Main pairing: USUK. Warning! May contain the following: violence, gore, profanity, etc.
1. Chapter 1

Alfred's life was the epitome of normalcy. Nothing of great significance ever happened, nothing notable or important that could be stored away for his remembrance or that left an imprint on his life.

Ever since he was a child, it felt as if his life had already been planned out for him from the get-go. Every breath, every blink…everything felt perfect, synched, and orderly. Alfred thought of himself as the physical embodiment of what a normal American teenager should be; he fancied himself the representation of a normal person with normal problems and a normal life.

In elementary school, he earned decent grades and made decent friends. Everyone loved him and liked spending time with him just as they would others. Even the teachers liked the little boy with the dark gold hair and bright blue eyes that smiled constantly and exuded optimism like plants exuded oxygen.

In middle school, he earned better grades and made even more friends. Everyone knew about him and loved him and spent time with him as they would any other overly friendly person. They liked him, respected him for his optimistic nature and intelligence. Even when he had to get glasses, no one dared to make fun of him or call him names as they would have others since they were children and children could be some of the cruelest people that others could meet. He was nice, so they were nice in return.

In high school, he earned superb grades and became the star of the football team, just like all of those movies and social experts-like tabloids and the arts and music industries-depicted popular high school students. Everyone knew the childishly handsome quarterback whose smile made even the toughest teachers melt. He excelled at sports and science, befriended everyone he met, and, most importantly, treated everyone with respect. And, as the famous expression dictated, since he showed them such amiability, they did him the kindness of returning such actions, as well.

However, no matter how nice his life turned out to be, he thought it seemed…boring. Everything felt paced, fake…everything felt routine. It was the same thing every day, every year…

Even when he moved on and decided to study chemistry in college, his perfectly calculated life followed him. He earned decent grades-even if he did fail a few tests-, made decent friends, and led a decent life. His parents paid for his own apartment, bought him a new car, and continuously placed money into his bank account, which they did with his brother, Matthew, as well.

As Alfred grew older and began to notice the monotony that was his life, he felt a strange longing begin to develop. It started out small, as all weird feelings did, but soon grew as time went on. It swelled and grew into something more, something different. Once he hit college, the boredom all but killed him. It was the same thing over and over and over again. Nothing changed.

He felt nothing would ever change. Ever.

So, he subjugated himself to the long, boring life he knew would be ahead of him and tried to put on his brightest smile as he did so. It worked well enough for a while.

But everyone knew life liked to screw people over. No one was exempt. Not even Alfred.

Suffice to say, his time of normalcy was running out. For good.

"Time…"

"It's time..."

"Alfred! It's time for you to get up!" Alfred's eyes shot open as he struggled to sit up, only managing in getting his feet tangled in his sheets and falling off his bed. His gaze shifted all across the room, warily scanning for any sign of disturbance in his apartment.

"It's me, Al." Alfred's shriek erupted from his throat as he whipped his head to the side, coming face to face with his brother, Matthew. Sighing in relief at the familiar face, he slowly lifted himself off the ground and grinned sheepishly up at his brother. Matthew glared disapprovingly at him, arms crossed in front of his chest and lips pursed.

"Thanks, Matt. I owe you one, bro," Alfred chuckled, kicking the rest of the sheets off his body and walking over to his closet.

"This is the fifth time you've done this. You know I come to wake you up every time you have a test."

"I know. It just…slipped my mind." With a cry of triumph, Alfred pulled out his favorite shirt and lucky boxers, which he wore every time he had a major exam in any of his college classes. As Alfred ran into the bathroom to quickly shower and change, Matthew sighed and walked out of his brother's apartment, dragging his feet as he ambled by.

Meanwhile, Alfred let the soothing water beat against his back as he cleansed himself. Like always, his thoughts wandered, skipping from subject to subject, until he found himself thinking about his exam. He sighed, shutting the water off and toweling himself dry before pulling on his clothes.

It's not that he hated the class. Far from it. He excelled at Biochemistry and Mr. Oxenstierna, the professor, was very nice and understanding. However, he gave the hardest tests this side of the universe. Groaning in remembrance of a particularly bad test score he had received due to his being unprepared, Alfred swiftly toweled his hair dry, perched his glasses upon his nose, and finished with his bathroom necessities.

He snatched his backpack up from its perch on his desk chair and whistled as he made his way down the stairs and out the door of his apartment complex. At least it's almost vacation, he thought glumly. It's about time I got a break.

His keys jingled as he produced them from his pocket and used them to unlock his car. Sliding noisily into his seat, he jammed his keys into the ignition and immediately turned up the radio. A popular song was playing, which he happened to know the lyrics to, and he sang along to it whilst he drove to his campus.

His oddly chipper attitude came as a shock to him when he pulled into the parking lot and found himself rather…content. No, not content. Calm seemed more appropriate. He felt an odd serene feeling accompanying him as he proceeded to jog inside the building, all too aware of the dark clouds looming in the horizon. Knowing full well that it was going to rain later on, he cursed his lack of preparedness for the bad weather. He glanced down at his watch, noting his earliness, and placidly continued down the hall. Maybe he could take the exam and be out before the rain actually appeared. If he was lucky.

Finally finding the right room, he pushed open the door, revealing the huge lecture room in which his exam was to take place. He took his place in his usual seat -the one nearest the door- and placed his things down as he waited for instruction. Mr. Oxenstierna nodded to him in acknowledgement, his usual stern gaze never leaving his face, before looking back down at the papers he had in his hands. A few others were there apart from him, all either studying hurriedly or calmly gazing about the classroom.

One person in particular caught his eye. He had blonde, messy hair, peachy skin, and the biggest pair of eyebrows Alfred had ever laid eyes on. He dressed to kill, sporting a white dress shirt covered by a nice leather jacket, plaid pants, and knee-length biker boots. The scowl on his face seemed to deepen as he noticed Alfred gazing at him. Alfred caught a clear view of the stranger's stunning green eyes before the man turned his nose up and looked away.

The thing that bugged Alfred the most about this stranger was not his strange appearance. Nor was it his apparently sour attitude. No, it was the fact that he had never before seen this stranger in class other than today. That alone puzzled him greatly. Now, it could just be that he never noticed this man before. But something seemed off about him. Surely, even Alfred would have noticed such a standoffish person attending his class.

He shrugged it off, glumly returning his gaze back to the desk in front of him. It wasn't his business anyway, so there was no need to be worked up over it. His tiredness became apparent as he rubbed at his eyes and yawned deeply, stretching languidly in his seat. Oh, well. Time to cram. He couldn't afford a bad grade on this particular test.

The exam had been brutal, even though he had studied incessantly for three days and a few minutes prior to the actual test. Deciding that next time, he would spend a few more days to prepare for the next one, he walked briskly down the hall, rubbing tiredly at his eyes yet again. God, he felt tired. And sleepy.

He hadn't paid attention to where he was going and felt himself collide with another person, sending them both to the floor. Papers scattered every which way, landing on the floor and the two bodies currently occupying said area. Groaning, Alfred settled onto his knees and began picking up the papers that apparently belonged to the other person.

"Listen, I'm really sorry-" he began, but cut himself off once he noticed a strange clock sitting before him. Mesmerized, he reached out to grab it, holding it gingerly in his palm. It glittered, its gilded surface shining brightly under the fluorescent lights illuminating the hallway. He noticed the minute hand pointing right down to where the six occupied the clock's surface, directly at him. The hour hand pointed directly across from himself at the twelve, toward the general direction of the other person still sitting on the floor, messily taking hold of his papers. Odd. Alfred knew for a fact that it was only nine fifteen because he checked the clock inside the lecture hall before departing. It could be possible that the hall's clock had been off, but it seemed more likely that this person's was just wrong.

He glanced up at the stranger that accidentally collided with him, his heart stopping once he realized who it was. The strange punk boy was not at all happy to see him. His glare, intensified by his huge eyebrows, seemed to penetrate into his very soul. He briskly snatched up the clock from Alfred's hands, sneering at him.

"Do not take my things without my permission," he hissed, stuffing the golden clock back into his backpack. All Alfred could do was nod as the punk picked up the last of his papers and all but stormed away. Out of sheer curiosity, he pulled out his cell phone from his hoodie pocket and pressed down on the lock button. Glowing white numbers appeared on the screen, providing the time. It was nine twenty. As he returned his phone to his pocket, Alfred felt slightly unnerved at this new tidbit of information. He didn't know why; he just felt that way.

Sighing at his thoughts, Alfred dismissed them from his mind and continued his way down the hall. It was just a silly clock. What was there to be disturbed about?

"I don't think I did too great."

"You should study more next time, Al. You know you can't afford to fail that class."

"I know, Matt, but…" Alfred sighed, placing his chin atop his desk as he continued to talk to his brother. "I'll try harder next time. I promise." A long sigh floated into Alfred's ears, distorted due to the phone's speakers.

"I've heard that one before. You always make promises. You need to learn how to keep them, Alfred." He winced at his brother's words, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his head with his free hand.

"You still mad about that time?"

"Of course I am."

"I'm sorry! At least it was only three times-"

"Four, Al. It was four. You left me standing out in the rain four times."

"They were accidents!" he exclaimed, pushing himself up off the chair and flopping onto his bed. Matthew groaned. Alfred could almost see the sad and disappointed look usually lurking in his brother's eyes whenever he saw Alfred.

"It doesn't matter. It's all in the past now."

"Alright. I've gotta go. Talk to ya later."

"Bye." Alfred hung up and tossed his cell phone onto his dresser, wincing at the loud clang it made. He let his gaze wander about the room as he thought about nothing in particular. Random thoughts floated through his mind, not unlike the ones a person thought about when taking a shower or trying to sleep. He just so happened to spot his laptop perched on his desk, gleaming in the late afternoon sun streaming through the curtains.

It looked very inviting at the moment, so he decided to perch it on his lap and surf the web. However, he couldn't seem to find anything to entertain himself with. He feel like looking at funny pictures, nor did he want to log onto Facebook and check his notifications.

Acting on a whim, he logged onto his email and scrolled through the various junk emails and spam littering his inbox. Not even bothering to check whom the messages were from, he deleted each one, lazily checking off boxes and sending the stupid things straight into his junk folder. He was about to click the clear button when a certain email caught his eye. Warily, he opened it and let his gaze roam over the words, confusion growing deeper as he read the entirety of the message.

What is the proper time at which cards reside? What? What did cards have to do with time? This had to be a joke, or at least a clever riddle he could not solve. It simply made no sense. Cards…and time. Time and cards. Where was the connection?

The more he pondered the question, the more bewildered he became. He stared at the computer screen, thinking deeply. Try as he might, he could not come up with an answer.

This is stupid, he thought. Why do I even care? Disgruntled, he checked the email of the sender, wondering who exactly decided to send him this idiotic one-question message. However, he was surprised to find there was no sender. Where the name should have been, a simple spade took its place. Alfred began to feel scared. He stared at the message and the spade symbol, eyes flicking back and forth as he studied them intently. A strange, frightening feeling began to engulf him, starting at his toes and quickly filling up until it crushed his chest. It alarmed him. It terrified him.

It made no sense. Out of spite, he decided to slam close his laptop and push it away from him. But before he could, his cell phone began to ring. He stared at it for a second, debating whether or not to answer it, before deciding that picking up the phone would be more advisable than ignoring it. Tentatively, he reached for it, picking it up warily and lifting it to his ear. He didn't bother checking the Caller ID; he never did.

"Hello?" he breathed out. "Who's this?" Instead of answering his question, the man-for surely it was a man-simply asked him something in return.

"What is the proper time at which cards reside?" Dread filled his body, accompanying the strange feeling and adding more pressure to his chest. It squeezed his heart, making it beat faster than should have been possible. He might have been sweating; he didn't know. His eyes widened, his breath coming in short, almost painful gasps. Who was this person? How did he know?

"I don't understand. Who are you?" he all but screamed.

"What is the proper time at which cards reside?" it repeated. Alfred could tell the person had an accent. English, he believed. But that was beside the point. What was with that question? Why did this person ask him this? Was he the one who sent that goddamned message? Probably, he reasoned. Probably. Most likely.

"I-I…I don't know…" he said, his voice gruff. Nothing but static greeted his ears, the sound becoming annoying and adding to his anxiety. "What do you want?" The click and dial tone from the other side of the phone signaled that the other person had hung up. This bothered him, immensely so.

He wondered briefly if this was some elaborate prank set up by his friends or even his brother. Matthew wasn't all sugar and roses like he led everyone to believe. Everyone had a vengeful streak and Matthew was not an exception. Alfred would not be so ignorant as to put this past his brother. In fact, it seemed exactly like something he would do.

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. What were the odds that after talking to Matthew, he suddenly started receiving strange messages? There had to be some sort of connection. Growing angry, Alfred quickly unlocked his phone and dialed his brother's number. He tapped furiously at his knee as he waited for the infuriating little asshole to pick up.

"Hello? Why did you call me, Al? I thought you had to go."

"What game are you playing at?" he asked, cutting straight to the chase.

"What do you mean?" Matthew sounded sincerely confused, but that only served to irritate Alfred further. Had he no shame?

"Don't play dumb with me, you ass. I know you're the one sending that stupid message."

"I don't…What message?"

"Come on. Who'd you get to do it? How'd you send that message with the spade symbol, huh? Who was the British kid?"

"Alfred, shut up and let me talk. I have no idea what you're babbling about. What message? What British kid?" Alfred blinked, his brother's words registering in his mind. Did he really not know? Was it really not him sending those messages? He could just as easily be lying, but Matthew was never the best liar, nor did he like lying.

Just the thought that some unknown person knew his phone number and his email address sent chills down his spine. Not only was it creepy, but it was also very odd and frightening. It was all he could do to prevent himself from hyperventilating from his anxiety.

"Oh. Well, in that case, sorry. I'll call ya later, 'kay?" he breathed.

"Wait, Alfred-!" Before Matthew could finish, Alfred hung up the phone and tossed it beside him on the bed. He stared at the message floating before him, trying in vain to search for the answer. He didn't know if the person would call or email again; it didn't seem very likely. However, he couldn't help the chills from running down his back, making him shiver.

"This is too weird," he sighed to himself, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. He closed the laptop, not even bothering to shut it off, and placed it back on his desk. Deciding that he most certainly felt tired and deserved to rest, he flopped back onto his bed and began the process of lulling himself to sleep. It was hard; all he could think about was the message and his test. Both frustrated him to no end, making him toss and turn, pull at his hair, and groan in exasperation. All he wanted was a nice, long sleep.

Finally, after what seemed like hours to him, he slipped into a deep, troubled sleep.

It faintly registered in his mind that he was in a room. The room in question was dark and enormous, the only light source being the huge pit filled with strange blue crystals immersed in a blazing fire.

Fire glass, he thought subconsciously. It's called fire glass. The fire leapt to and fro, weaving like a dancer and flickering wildly. He stared at it, transfixed by its strange beauty, before he pulled his gaze away from the blazing blue crystals and took in his surroundings. The floor was tiled and polished, alternating black and white squares making up the design. Hints of royal blue rugs littered the room. He couldn't be too sure of their size. Much of the room was thrown into darkness, making it impossible to gauge what else occupied the area.

"What is the proper time at which cards reside?" At the question, Alfred whirled around, alarm filling his features and mind. Standing just in front of the flaming crystal pit was a figure. He took care not to stand too close to the fire, meaning his features were obscured with black and shadows. The only thing Alfred could make out was the regal blue coat the stranger wore.

"Who are you?" he shot back, still frightened. "What do you want?" A thought struck him suddenly. "It's you who sent me the message and called me, right? Look, I dunno what game you're playing at, but-!"

"What is the proper time at which cards reside?" the person asked, cutting him off from his tirade.

"I've already told you! I don't know!" The figure sighed visibly, his shoulders shaking gently from the motion. He brought up a white-gloved hand, the palm facing Alfred, before whispering strange, unrecognizable words.

"What are you-?" Before he could finish, the room began to disappear, taking the stranger along with it. Black spots ebbed at his vision, oozing in closer and closer together. They consumed everything, took everything, greedily, hungrily. The last thing he remembered seeing was the blazing blue crystal fire before everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright, big round of applause (and a big thank you) to the people who reviewed/favorited/followed. The first chapter was more of a test run if anything. Now, since I received some very positive feedback, I will continue the story. Here's the second chapter. I hope you enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters. The only thing I own is the storyline.**

* * *

Alfred awoke with a start, hand resting on his chest as he panted. His heart beat erratically against his chest, threatening to burst free from its cage. His breathing was ragged and fast, giving evidence of his flustered state.

Slowly, he calmed himself down, willing his breathing and heartbeat to return to normal. He sat up against the headboard of his bed, running his hands shakily through his hair before resettling them on his lap.

What was that? Who was that? Had the stranger somehow discovered a way to not only find his personal information, but penetrate his dreams, as well? Things were getting too weird far too fast.

But it was a only a dream, he reminded himself. It could have been caused by the stress I've been in lately. He remembered reading somewhere online that a person's dreams were influenced by the recent day's events. As Alfred pondered this, he began to relax. Obviously, that was what happened. It was probably his imagination's interpretation of the odd goings-on. Obviously.

Now calmer than before, he slumped down sleepily and shifted back onto his pillows.

It's nothing, he thought. Just a dream. And with that, he fell back into his sleep, no dreams interrupting his rest.

"Are you sure it's today?"

"Positive."

"Are you absolutely sure, Toris?"

"Yes, Alfred. For the thousandth time, the release of that new video game is coming out today."

"Oh my God! I'm so excited! I can hardly breathe! What do you think it's gonna be like? I really hope the graphics are as good as they looked on that commercial! Are you gonna come with me to the store? Please come. I need a gaming buddy. I hope the storyline…" Alfred continued babbling on as Toris strolled alongside him calmly. He couldn't really help it. He was way too excited. Kings, the sequel to Aces, was being released today. Aces was Alfred's favorite video game of all time! His excitement for the sequel was well founded, especially since Aces left off on the biggest cliffhanger ever made in video game history. Not only did Alfred want to know what happened to the protagonist, he needed to know. He needed to know like fish needed water.

Alfred continued to rave about the new development as they walked to their Calculus class. He knew that as soon as his classes were over, he would zoom over to the video game store and buy Kings whether Toris was present or not. All he cared about right now was playing the game and getting as far as possible on it-maybe even finishing it in one sitting if he felt up to it. With these thoughts, his worry over what happened the previous day seemed to float into the back of his mind; it wasn't entirely forgotten, but it was absent for the moment.

He strolled along happily with Toris, eager for the night ahead.

Yes! he thought as he jumped out of his car hurriedly and slammed the door. I finally got it!

He practically skipped up the stairs and fumbled for his keys as he approached his apartment door. Alfred gently placed the bag on his floor, fingers twiddling and searching for the right key. With a short cry of triumph, he opened his door quickly and grabbed the bag from its place on the floor. He didn't bother to close the door gently; it was much faster to simply kick it closed with his foot as he walked ahead. He made a beeline for the huge TV and gaming console placed against the far right wall.

After a few short minutes consisting of muttered cursing and inserting the game disk, Alfred watched the TV eagerly as the opening credits flashed onto the screen. Happy, giddy sounds of excitement escaped his lips as his eyes scanned the opening scenes and sequences. The graphics were amazing and detailed, the movement of the characters smooth and the action scenes vivid. He took a moment to appreciate it. Rarely were there games with such amazing graphics and fantastic storylines.

Finally, the opening sequence ended, a simple bold statement taking its place.

Would you like to try the tutorial before playing the game?

Alfred snorted. He never utilized the tutorial option since he was too awesome for something so mundane as that. He skipped the tutorial eagerly and watched as his character appeared in the middle of a green field. Immediately, he began to move around in search of the first quest to begin his journey. His character-also known as the Ace- ran ahead, the trees and grass flying by as he went along. Finally, after a few minutes of aimless searching, a gray brick road appeared just ahead, a hooded figure standing along it. He maneuvered his character over to the figure, anticipating the words this person-most likely the Fortune Keeper of the game- was about to tell him.

He pressed the x button on his controller and a cut scene began to play.

"Who are you, stranger?" Alfred's character asked, his regal voice booming and his royal blue robes flapping dramatically in the wind. The hooded figure looked up, his face cloaked in the darkness offered by his robes, which happened to be the same shade as the Ace's clothing.

"You beckon dangerous company, Ace. I will tell you my name if you answer my question correctly," the mysterious person replied, as still as a statue. The Ace seemed to contemplate the person's words before nodding in affirmation.

"Ask your question. I shall answer it correctly," he stated confidently, eyes never straying from the figure before him.

In a whispery voice that seemed very familiar to Alfred, the figure queried, "What is the proper time at which cards reside?"

A loud thud resounded as Alfred dropped his controller, his eyes widening. The screen froze, the hooded figure taking up the entirety of the space available. He could do nothing but stare, the question-the familiar and dreadful question-jumping around in his mind, begging to be pondered aloud. If words could burn, those certainly would. They seared his mind, burned at the back of his throat, threatening to burst forth.

He reached over slowly, carefully, as if it was dangerous to move any faster. With one quick snap, he pulled the power cord giving life to his game station out of its socket. He felt satisfied as he watched the red glowing light signaling the station was on grow dimmer until it finally disappeared. Sighing, he glanced back up at the screen, but he felt a pang of terror grip his stomach as he saw the image there.

No longer was the hooded figure frozen in place in the position the cut scene had left him. Instead, he looked straight ahead, the same question flashing in bold, italicized letters near his chin. He heard a shriek, loud and shrill, and vaguely wondered what hideous creature could make such a sound. With a start, he realized it came from his own lips and quickly glued his lips together to keep other sounds from escaping.

He panicked. Anyone would in his situation. Now he had a right to be frightened. Which, of course, he was.

If this was a prank, it was a damn good one. He didn't even know how someone could manage to do this to his game. The more he thought about it, the possibility of this happening diminished until it made absolutely no sense in his mind. It simply didn't make sense.

Suddenly, he jumped into the air and dived over to the power outlet his television was connected to. With great force, he pulled the cord out, cutting off all power to his television. He stayed there for a moment, unsure whether or not checking the TV was a good idea. The thought of what he would find scared him, made him shake and shiver slightly.

Finally, after a few moments of almost silent breathing and anxiety, he slowly turned to face the screen. Relief flooded into his veins as a black monitor greeted him. He chuckled exasperatedly, alarmed thoughts filling his mind as he gazed blankly at the floor.

He didn't know what to do. That much was obvious. He couldn't call the police since he had no evidence other than the strange email and the phone number of the person that called him. They wouldn't take him seriously, anyway. No one ever did.

His brother wouldn't be much help, either. He would simply tell Alfred that it was all in his mind or some other bullshit to get him to calm down. No, Matthew was out.

He decided, perhaps rashly, that he would simply do nothing. Just like always. Waiting it out seemed like the best option. The only option, really. His harasser would have to end it or develop a disinterest sooner or later.

Right?

"Stop! What are you doing?" He said nothing, merely standing before him silently. His blue coat rippled as he lifted his hand calmly, the blackness covering his face masking everything from Alfred. What he would give to see that face, to see the person who kept intruding into his personal life and his dreams. Oh, what he would give!

As always, he spoke nothing but that question, the words obscuring and blurring in Alfred's mind from their repetitiveness. He knew it by heart, has known it since the first time. The reprise was unnecessary, yet essential at the same time. For even though he knew the words, knew the question and the voice that delivered it constantly, he would forget it had he the chance. Yes, he would try to repress it from his memory, make it so the question fluttered into the dark corners of his mind where all bad and forgotten memories went. But he couldn't.

The stranger muttered those unintelligible not words-for Alfred could not understand them and they sounded like gibberish all the same-and Alfred's eyes began to fail him. At least, it seemed like they were. Everything disappeared, black splotches leaking into his vision like spilled ink. They seeped and splattered, rapidly taking everything into their bodies. The last thing to disappear was the stranger's white-gloved hand, his palm facing him even then.

He awoke with a start, shooting out of bed with desperation and clawing at his throat for air. He hated it. He hated the darkness that stole his sight from him every time he had that stupid dream. He hated the dreams themselves. They robbed him of his precious sleeping hours, robbed him of his well-deserved rest, and made him very irritable.

His brother was the first to notice Alfred's strange behavior, but when he brought it up, Alfred would simply glare menacingly at him and change the subject quickly. It was apparent that he was trying to keep everything inside and trying to shove it away from the forefront of his mind. However, it became sorely obvious to everyone, especially Matthew, that whatever disturbed Alfred was serious.

But he refused to talk about it.

He thought he could handle it. He thought he could handle the dreams and the phone calls and the emails.

He thought he could handle the strange incidents and happenings that always ended with that insufferable question that he still didn't know the answer to.

What is the proper time at which cards reside?

Ugh! It frustrated him to no end! It had been only a week since strange things began to occur and already he was going insane. He felt absolutely mad, in both senses of the word.

He hadn't even touched his game since that day. It sat inside the game system, alone and dejected, gathering dust and silently waiting.

The dreams were the worst part. He could handle the phone calls. It was simple to answer and then hang up or simply ignore the call. He could handle the emails. All it took was the press of a key and the message was sent off into internet oblivion, never to be seen by him again until the next one came.

However, he could not handle the dreams. For the oddest reason, something which he could not fathom for the life of him, the dreams seemed to bring everything into perspective, seemed to throw everything into reality and made it real. They made his fear intensify, made his heart race with terror and anticipation, made him paranoid…

For what could be so powerful that it could invade his dreams, therefore his mind? More importantly, who could hold such power? Who? Alfred desperately wanted to know. He so desperately wanted to know.

As if to mock him further, his phone rang, the number that became a constant reminder of his stalker's-for what else could it be if not a stalker?- presence flashing upon its surface. He had that number memorized, had it memorized since the first dozen calls. His dream had supplied a rush of adrenaline, bringing with it a surge of bravery that made Alfred act stupidly and forced his hand to fumble for his phone and actually answer.

"I've told you already. I don't know," he sighed infuriatedly, bitterly. Still, the stranger plowed on.

"What is the proper time at which cards reside?"

"Honestly, I don't even know why you bother. I don't know and will never know so please, leave me alone," he pleaded, running a hand through his hair in exasperation and wondering briefly if the person could say anything other than those few words, could breathe anything but that one question. It seemed impossible to him that he could say anything other than that question since he had not as of yet.

But he didn't listen to Alfred's words. "What is the proper time at which-?" He hung up, as he had dozens of times before, and threw his phone against the wall, not caring about the damage it could acquire through such actions.

"Shut up," he muttered, wiping tiredly at his eyes, which were tearing up from their sleepiness. "Just shut up."

He glanced wearily at the digital clock resting on the nightstand beside his bed, the early hour eliciting a groan from his sleep-roughened throat. However, he knew he would not be able to go back to sleep from the stress, so, with a deep sigh, he jumped out of bed and dragged himself into the shower.

That was the best place to think, he believed. Some of his best ideas were born there.

As the water fell onto his shoulders in a comforting pattern, he closed his eyes and tried to banish the worrying thoughts from his mind. He knew he couldn't ignore the issue forever, but damn he would try his hardest to.

He spent quite a bit of time in there since he had time to kill, lazily washing his body and shampooing his hair with closed eyes. He sang, deep and throaty, as he did so, as he usually did when taking a shower. His voice was lovely and lilting, the type of voice one could scarcely find these days that was pleasant and promising, full of emotion even when the song called for none. It was a nice voice, a voice others would be terribly envious of if they had the chance to hear it. Rarely did he sing, however, outside of the walls of his bathroom, and rarer yet did he sing in front of others. Alfred was funny like that. He loved to sing, loved to show off his skills as much as he could when in the presence of someone to impress, but he never sang in front of others. His voice was his own, after all, and the day hell froze over would be the day Alfred would show others what his voice excelled at doing-other than talking loudly and quickly and obnoxiously, of course.

For now, his voice was irrelevant, or so it seemed since that one person he wished would hear him ignored it regularly.

He soon grew tired of sitting in the heat and water the shower provided and decided now was the time to step outside and get ready for the sure to be tiring day ahead. He could feel it, sensed the weariness his day would provide. Wondering idly just how many phone calls, emails, and messages or symbols he would receive for the day, he dressed quickly in simple clothes and left, leaving behind the fleeting moment of sanity the soothing shower provided.

He couldn't remember exactly how he managed to become entangled in this situation. He knew that it all started out normally. He knew that he didn't anticipate such a scene to unfold before him. He knew that he really did not want to be there at the moment, holding a heavily sweetened coffee in Starbucks under the furious and scrutinizing gaze of the oddly familiar punk kid. He knew all of those things, except exactly how this entire chain of events came about. Perhaps wisely, he thought it best to recount the events leading up to it.

He remembered getting into his car after a long day of school and deciding that he would indulge his cravings and get a nice, warm cup of coffee at the nearest Starbucks. With that pleasant and much needed thought in mind, he drove there, anticipating the sweet taste after having gone so long without it. Smiling to himself, he pulled into the parking lot, making sure to park correctly after remembering one embarrassing time when a mother driving an SUV decided to chastise him for his apparently poor parking skills, leaving behind a thoroughly mortified Alfred in the middle of a group of onlookers.

Alfred snagged his wallet and his keys, stuffed each item into his black, knee-length coat, and slammed his car door before shoving his hands into his pockets and heading inside. A cool breeze followed him, reminding him of the simple fact that it was the beginning of December and winter was fast approaching, and he opened the doors of the café once he neared them. The warmth that blasted Alfred's body once he stepped in was very welcome, the smell of coffee and the quiet murmurings that accompanied it pleasant and relaxing. He breathed in the scent of his favorite drink and strolled up to the cashier, a nice-looking, giddy college girl that smiled just a tad too much.

"Hello, sir!" she chirped. "How may I help you?"

"Hi!" he greeted back with the same amount of exuberance. "I'd like a Pumpkin Spice Latte."

"What size?"

"Grande."

"Great! Would you like to try one of our delicious pastries?"

"No thanks. Just the latte, please," he dismissed with a wave of his hand. As he paid for it, she stated perkily that his order would be ready in a few minutes, asked for his name, and gave the order to her coworker to prepare. Alfred, meanwhile, went to stand beside the sugar packets sitting atop a table, waiting patiently for his drink to be prepared.

"Jones?" someone called loudly after a few minutes. Alfred happily jumped as his name was called and reached over for his drink, thanking the man politely and setting his drink on the table the sugar packets were occupying. With no amount of elegance, he ripped open five packets at the same time and sweetened his latte. He took a tentative sip, tasting it to make sure it fit his standards, and grinned at the delicious taste. He turned quickly, not paying much attention to his surroundings, and accidentally bumped into someone.

That someone happened to have a coffee, as well, and it fell onto his chest, spilling and burning, eliciting a sharp yelp from said person. With reddened cheeks and embarrassment apparent, Alfred apologized hastily, reaching over to grab a handful of napkins to hand to the stranger.

His eyes widened, however, when he took note of the person standing before him. He couldn't believe it at first, couldn't believe who was standing in front of him.

It was the punk kid. The one from his biochemistry exam. Then one he bumped into that owned that strange clock with the wrong time. It was him. He stared, his mouth agape, eyes wide, napkins fluttering out of his grip and onto the floor. The boy-man, whatever- locked eyes with him, his gaze livid, expression murderous and haunting.

They had a battle of sorts. They stared, waiting for the other to break first, very much aware of the studious eyes of the other customers and workers on them, watching their exchange. After a full minute of nothing but staring, Alfred broke first, looking down and reaching for more napkins to hand to the strange boy.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'm sorry." The stranger snatched the napkins out of his grip, quickly dabbing at his dark shirt and jacket darkened even further by the spilled drink. Alfred winced, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy, and decided to try a different tactic to earn this man's forgiveness.

"Um…could I buy you a drink? To replace the one I…that one," he questioned, pointing vaguely at the empty cup on the floor and black liquid pouring forth and seeping around it, like blood from a wound. He winced internally at the metaphor, trying to banish the mental picture from his mind.

"…No. That won't be necessary," he growled, throwing the napkins onto the floor in a moistened mess before training his eyes back to Alfred. Alfred's breath caught in his throat, both from embarrassment and from the fact that the stranger…his eyes…they were very pretty. And green. Like stained glass from ages old. Like his eyes, the boy reeked of maturity and wisdom.

"Wait," Alfred called as the man turned to leave, catching his hand without much notice. "Have we talked before? Your voice seems familiar." It did. It sounded familiar. It was accented and beautiful, melodic and charming. He felt he heard it a thousand times before.

"I don't recall talking to an imbecile like you," the man quipped before pulling out of his grip and striding out, never once looking back at Alfred. Hurt, Alfred walked out soon after, getting into his car melancholically and placing his still full latte in his cup holder. He slammed his head into the steering wheel, a sharp and elongated horn cry sounding off and accompanying his sadness.

"Fantastic, Alfred," he sighed. "Fantastic."

He didn't know why he felt terrible or sad, just that he did feel those things and they affected him far too much for his liking. He barely knew the man! Why did it feel bad, though? Why did he feel like that? WHY?

"Why?" he screamed. That was all he felt nowadays. The sadness, the despair, the fear, the horror…he only felt bad feelings, not good ones anymore. All he wanted was to be as carefree and happy as he was when he was younger, when he didn't have such weird things happening to him.

Maybe it was his fault. Maybe it was. He always wished something would happen, something exciting and awesome, something otherworldly and amazing. He didn't specify, just thought that he wanted something to happen so he could escape the expected monotony of his life. Just something.

Perhaps his lack of stipulation caused this. Perhaps he had no one to blame other than himself for his needless wishing and constant want for something new and exciting. In a strange way, maybe all of this-everything from the strange phone calls to bumping into the odd man-was his fault and his fault alone.

Groaning, he pulled out of the parking lot and drove to his apartment, trying not to think but thinking all the same. As soon as he arrived, he jumped out, grabbing his latte as an afterthought, and ran up the stairs to his apartment. He closed the door and locked it, not wanting to be disturbed, and placed his coffee inside his small kitchen.

He felt tired and no better remedy for tiredness existed than sleep, which he felt up to doing. He slipped off his shirt and pants and kicked off his shoes and socks, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. Silently, he jumped into his covers and fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

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**Just a little heads up. I won't be posting quite as often as I just did, so please don't be upset if it takes a bit longer to post the other chapters. Thank you for your understanding. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the relatively short chapter. I promise I'll write more. **

**Anyway, thank you to all the people that favorited/followed/reviewed and whatnot. I really appreciate it! Also, thank you for taking the time to read my story. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters.**

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He was back. Again. Back inside that room that was dark and cold save for the blazing fire and hot blue crystals that he could vaguely remember were collectively called fire glass. He tried-boy, did he try- to see anything other than what the fire's light could provide, but the darkness was oppressing and terrible and it hated him. It hated him almost as much as he hated it.

He waited, silently, patiently, for the man to appear once again and ask him that infernal question. As if on cue, he appeared, his face masked and hidden, his blue coat the only sign of his existence.

"Go," Alfred called, feeling courageous for once in his dreams. "Ask me. Ask me the damn question." He could feel the man's gaze on him, poking, prodding, gauging. Then, he did the one thing Alfred least expected from him.

"I'll tell you the answer. If you feel ready for it," he whispered, his words shocking Alfred down to his core.

"…What? A-Are you…serious?" he inquired tentatively, wondering if he heard him correctly or if his mind was simply playing tricks on him and the man only said those same godforsaken words.

"I will tell you the answer. If you feel ready," he repeated, not once moving, not once giving a hint of having said those words, and yet he did-did give off the vibe of having said such things- at the same time. They, the words, rang in Alfred's mind, clear and heavenly. He would finally get the answer to the question that had been plaguing him ever since this man began to bother him.

"Yes!" he yelled, excitement evident. "Yes, please!" In an astounding turn of events, the man began to walk toward him, moving silently, quietly, to where Alfred stood. Strangely enough, the shadows moved with him, clinging to his face and body like parasites. Even as he neared the fire, he could not see the man's features. Still he walked, closer, closer, Alfred's breath quickening with each step taken towards him. He seemed to float, but as he neared, Alfred could hear a faint but distinct clack of heeled shoes hitting the tiled floor.

He neared until he was so close, Alfred could feel his warm breath fanning his face, covering it like a shroud. He leaned in, lips almost touching his ear, and finally-finally!-whispered, "Your time."

He awoke with a start, as he usually did, his heart racing and breathing quick, body sweaty and shaking. But this time, he smiled, smiled because now he knew the answer to the question that had been haunting his dreams in the literal sense of the word. He smiled because now, he was sure the stranger would leave him alone. That made sense, right? Alfred now knew the answer, knew that the answer meant a great deal for some reason, so the man would leave him alone, yes?

Right?

Of course he would. Alfred, although giddy at knowing the answer to the seemingly impossible riddle, fell back into his covers and drifted off, no dreams disturbing his deep slumber.

At least, none he could remember.

The melodic tune of Linkin Park's In The End startled Alfred awake, forcing him to jump violently before resettling into his bed. He blinked once, eyes trying to adjust but remaining unfocused because of his poor vision, and blindly reached for his phone. As per usual, he did not check his Caller ID, opting to simply answer the call and get it over with.

"Hello?" he yawned, sleepiness evident. Silence greeted his ears before the man on the other line spoke up.

"What is the proper time at which cards reside?"

It happened. Again. Over and over and over again. Except it was different this time.

This time, no dreams plagued him. This time, no emails covered his inbox and annoyed him.

This time, only calls came through, incessant and frustrating, infuriating. They were not punctual, which was to say they did not occur at the same time every day. No, they came at odd times while he was doing odd things, such as showering or brushing his teeth or taking his final exam for his Calculus class. That particular time would be forever branded in his mind as he forgot to put it on silent and the teacher almost failed him on the spot before Alfred weaseled his way out of trouble.

Regardless, they came at odd intervals and made him very angry. Sometimes he would receive a call at six thirty-five in the morning. Sometimes he would get one at three past midnight. Other times, he would get one at nine forty-two. The only thing that resembled a pattern would be that, if he called at midnight, he would call again at six. If he called at nine, he would call again at three. Alfred wondered about the significance of such timing, but decided that he would sooner like to stop it than care about the reasons behind it. He would give anything for it to stop.

It was Thursday, and tomorrow would be Friday and after that, vacation would begin and he would have nothing to worry about for four weeks apart from eating and taking care of himself. He did not want to spend his entire vacation receiving calls from a strange man who insisted Alfred give him the answer to the riddle.

But what was the purpose? The man knew the answer, obviously, and he gave Alfred the answer, so why should he insist upon calling and ringing and again calling him for it?

It made no sense. Absolutely none. Alfred would not give him the answer-mainly because he was slightly scared as to what would happen if he did-no matter how many times the man called him. No, he would not break first. He would not!

However, as he settled down upon his bed and closed his eyes, hoping for escape, his phone rang yet again, causing him to reveal his bloodshot eyes and cringe.

Maybe tomorrow, if the man insisted upon calling him so late again, he would give him the answer. Maybe.

Finally! He was free! Free for four whole weeks to do nothing but laze around and eat to his heart's content. Oh, how he waited for this day! How he longed for it since who knew how long!

There was only one small problem.

His phone.

He stared at it charging in his car whilst he drove, gazed upon its illuminated surface while it vibrated incessantly. He would not cave in. He would not. He was Alfred Fucking Jones, and Alfred F. Jones did not give in in the face of such idiocy. Who did the man think he was? Well, Alfred would show him a thing or two.

Once he parked in front of his dull and graying apartment complex, he tore the charger out of his phone and turned the offending device off, smiling satisfactorily as it shut down before his eyes. He sighed contentedly, slipped his phone into his pocket, grabbed his bag, and made his way inside the complex and up into his room.

He felt liberated, free and happy, and he skipped into the kitchen to grab a slice of leftover pizza from the night before. With his prize in hand, he strode back into his living room, placed his phone on his nightstand, and jumped on top of his bed. Deciding that he really wanted to watch a few movies on Netflix, he turned on his Blue-ray player and searched…and searched and searched until finally choosing The Lorax.

The bright characters danced upon his screen in joy even as they sang about the pollution they faced and odd things they did. Alfred, suffice to say, was truly entranced, watching with apt attention and laughing or smiling or whimpering sadly in all the right parts. He choked back a few tears as the Once-ler and the Lorax embraced in the end, reunited at last, and In The End played as the credits began to roll in…wait, what?

With wide eyes, he slowly turned to look at his phone. It vibrated, alight with color and sound, jumping about in its perch upon his nightstand.

With great hesitation-and perhaps no forethought-, Alfred reached over and picked up his phone, studying it, making sure he was not hallucinating nor dreaming. He pinched himself, yelping in pain as he did, and concluded he most certainly was not dreaming. It felt very real, and he was almost positive he was not-not!-hallucinating. At all.

But he turned it off. How could it be vibrating and singing, informing him of a call? How?

He didn't know. He didn't know a lot of things lately.

Hands slick with sweat and lips dry, he pressed the answer button and licked his chap lips before holding the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" he asked, wondering why he even bothered anymore. "Who is this?" For a second, no sound greeted him from the other line. Seconds passed, feeling more like hours as they usually did when someone was greeted with a nerve-racking situation, until that voice that grew so familiar yet was so foreign to him flowed into his ears.

"What is the proper time at which cards reside?"

Alfred hesitated and it seemed like the other person knew he was dying to speak. Alfred waited. He waited. Everyone waited. Everything waited. Time stopped as Alfred inhaled heavily, calming his frazzled nerves, before breathing out those few words that he didn't know would change his life forever.

"My time."


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the long wait. I had many things to do and time simply would not allow me to deliver the next chapter sooner. Anyway, a big thanks to the people that followed/favorited/reviewed. I can't thank any of you enough. On to the story.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters.**

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Two polite knocks sounded at his door, startling Alfred enough to make him drop his phone. Quickly, he walked over to it, pulling it open almost harshly. He blinked. Time stopped again. He breathed. It started.

Standing before him, in the strangest clothes Alfred had ever seen in his life, was the punk boy. Neutrality appeared to be his expression for today as he merely stared back at Alfred, piercing green eyes never once leaving his.

The man held out a clock, the clock, to him, showing him the long minute hand centered at the six, pointing straight to Alfred. The other hand, the hour hand, aimed straight at the boy. Even when the person twisted his hand to and fro, the hands stayed locked on their respective persons, never once moving from their positions. At least, it seemed that way. They moved, he knew, but they moved only to point to them respectively. And he didn't know why.

Alfred didn't know a lot of things lately.

"Why are you here?" he blurted out, unthinkingly asking the question. The not-so stranger lifted one huge eyebrow in response, drawing attention to the enormous eyebrows resting upon his forehead. Alfred glanced at them briefly, distracted, before snapping back to attention and locking eyes with the man standing before him, whom was holding a strange clock whose minute hand appeared bent on following him.

"…You're ready," the man said, taking hold of Alfred's hand. "You're finally ready." Blinking once in confusion, Alfred tried to shake the man's grip off unsuccessfully.

"Hey, let go!" He didn't listen; he only glared haughtily at Alfred before tugging him forward and running, blue coat billowing behind him. It seemed really familiar…

Alfred stumbled, only having enough time to close and lock his door before he was whisked away by the strange yet familiar man in the strange blue clothes with the familiar voice. They ran, Alfred unwillingly, outside of the apartment complex and still more. He tried resisting, he really did, but the smaller man proved stronger, strangely enough. All those years of weight training and football seemed for naught.

One who was perhaps very familiar with Alfred's apartment complex would tell you two things. First, the apartment complex was tall but not at all wide. A person could describe it as thin, for lack of a better word. Second, adjacent to the apartment complex was a huge, red brick wall. It separated the complex from the park taking residence behind it. Apart from being massive and dirty, it was quite solid, as well. Dreadfully solid.

Alfred grew very alarmed-rightfully so-as the strange man continued running, dragging him along and heading straight for the aforementioned wall. And, since this man possessed such uncharacteristic strength and absolutely overpowered Alfred, the poor boy could do nothing but try his hardest to stop him.

But he couldn't. He couldn't stop him and he knew it and it made him anxious. He noted, with high and growing levels of panic, that they gained speed; faster and faster they went, and still faster. Why, they were almost flying. At this point, Alfred began to feel far more frightened than ever before and uselessly tugged, pulled, and scratched at the man, begging to be released. He wasn't. The stranger showed no mercy, his only response the further quickening of their already terribly fast pace.

Alfred screamed once as they hit the wall.

A frightfully cold and empty feeling enveloped him, seeping into his pores and chilling him down to his core. His molecules, his particles, his atoms…all seemed to be affected by the cold feeling. It felt like someone stabbed his neck with a syringe full of ice water, injecting it into his bloodstream, and it spread, overtook, overpowered. It took everything and replaced it with nothing.

Then he fell. He fell down and more, trying to scream but not succeeding as he did. The only thing giving him even an ounce of courage, a smidge of reassurance, was the stranger's hand still holding his own. He gripped it tightly, firmly, not wanting to let go for fear of becoming stuck in this cold oblivion alone and forever.

Suddenly, grass appeared out of nothing and greeted his face. With an audible thump, he hit the floor, groaning in pain once he felt the strength of the impact. He let go of the man's hand and stood up slowly, testing his limbs for any damage.

Nothing too serious, he thought. But there will be bruises. Still smarting, he rubbed at his forearms and glanced up. A look of awe and terrific surprise filled his features, slowly morphing them to fit their mold. Wide eyes darted to and fro, drinking in every detail behind his spectacles.

"Wow," he breathed, wonderment clear in his voice. It was like something out of a fairy tale, only not really. Grass, the greenest of the green, stretched for miles upon end, not giving one hint of ending. Odd trees dotted the landscape, shaped like three-dimensional spades, their leaves alternating between shades of blue and green. Bushes of similar coloring accompanied the trees, glaring white flowers sprouting forth from their bodies. They looked like roses, only different, more intricate. Breathtaking was the first word that came to Alfred's mind.

The sky, the richest and happiest of blues, served as the background for the strange crescent sun hanging above their heads. Everything about it baffled Alfred, from its deep yellow-orange color to its seemingly pointed ends. Fluffy white clouds swept lazily across the sky, moving at a snail's pace and shifting shape every so often as if they were alive and lived only to amuse people. They moved to form a dragon breathing fire, smoke leaking from its nostrils. They changed into a mermaid brushing her hair. Suddenly, they became a school of fish. It was endless, really.

But those things weren't what truly amazed Alfred. No, it stood just ahead, glaringly bright in the light of the (seemingly) noon sun.

The city stood atop a perfectly rounded hill, a beacon of welcome and brightness. It looked huge and inviting, nice and majestic. The buildings appeared as if they were made of porcelain or metal, smooth and evenly shaped. They varied in size and hues of blue, placed in seemingly random places, but it also appeared to be orchestrated to look that way. Trees, just like the ones surrounding the countryside, popped up every now and then and from the oddest places. Gardens-huge, flowering gardens!-decorated rooftops and balconies, beautiful roses of varying shades of red, blue, or white facing and opening towards the strange sun.

But the castle standing tall and strong atop the peak of the hill was the most gorgeous part of it. It gleamed, reflecting the sun like an intricate diamond. Its alabaster walls looked almost translucent, but not really at the same time. High windows dotted its surface, colorful glass visible even from that distance. It had buttresses, arches, and pointed towers, all white and smooth and breathtaking. A great flag sat atop the highest tower, waving majestically and proudly.

The flag was interesting. In Alfred's eyes, it looked like a perfect blend between the British, American, and Chinese flags, and it contained a huge, blue spade sitting in the middle of it. It flew above everything, complimenting the city nicely.

A sharp clap to his right brought him out of his awe-induced trance. After a pause, he turned and faced the not-so stranger, raising a thin eyebrow in question.

"Where are we?" he inquired, taking one step toward the man, toward something familiar. The man didn't move; he stood there, a neutral expression decorating his face.

"You're in Spades," he answered after a moment of silence. "Welcome to your new kingdom. I hope you will enjoy it here."

"Wait, what?" he questioned, dumfounded, confused. "Spades? I've never heard of…how the hell did we get through the wall? What…Where…Huh?" He stared into the stranger's eyes, which were the color of the grass under his feet, despair slowly distorting his features as he dreaded the worst.

"Do calm down, lad. I will explain everything in due time. But for now…welcome, my king," he stated before dropping to the ground, genuflecting and bowing his head low. He took off the tiny hat resting on his hair, holding it to his chest in respect.

"King?" When he received no response from the still kneeling stranger, he felt something inside of him snap. "Stop that! Get up! Who are-!"

"Oh," he whispered, a wave of realization hitting him right in his chest, washing over him and enveloping him. "It was you this entire time, wasn't it?" The man only looked up, eyes meeting Alfred's, but nothing more.

"It was. I would know that coat. And your voice…it makes sense now. Everything started the day I saw you in my class. This wasn't a coincidence!" His voice grew louder as his anger rose, rising in pitch and heat. "Answer me, goddammit!" The man's eyes never left his, even as he answered solemnly.

"Yes."

"Why?" he screeched, stepping back, fists balling at his sides. He didn't want to hurt the man, but controlling himself was harder than it needed to be. Anger was funny in that it wanted to be felt, much like pain. And both pain and anger were vying for his attention at the moment, rolling around inside of him in their battle for dominance.

"You are our new king. You're my new king, Alfred." He said it so calmly, so emotionlessly, it made Alfred's despair grow. It fed it, nurtured it, made it grow and kill him slowly inside, like the monster that anguish was. The funny part was Alfred didn't know why he felt that way. His feelings were their own beings, separate from him yet so much a part of him that he felt them all too well. The despair and pain came as a surprise. As they filled his mind, so did confusion as to why they were there. Confusion he could understand. Terror he could understand. Anger he could understand.

But why did he feel pain? It hurt physically, like wounds from a poisoned sword, and made his body weak and tired. The agony did, as well. What was he agonizing over? Did his body and subconscious understand something his conscious mind did not?

"I don't want to be king. I want to go back home!"

"You can't do that."

"The hell I can't!" He turned, reaching out to touch the brick wall, but his hands only found empty space. Panicking, his eyes flickered over to the area the wall should have been, fully expecting it to be gone. He found it, though, a few feet away from his hand, and bounded over.

Pain-more pain than he already felt-racked his chest and forehead as he slammed into the bricks. Stumbling backwards and groaning in pain, he closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead. He knew bruises would form there. He could already feel them.

Why couldn't he go back through the wall? What happened? He wasn't stuck here, was he? Now his dread seemed well founded.

"Shit, what…?"

"When I said you couldn't do that, I meant you absolutely can't. The portal is closed. You can't get back to your side of the rift." Alfred looked up, opening his eyes and staring at the strange man.

"I don't understand." He stayed silent for a few seconds. Nothing happened. Time stopped. Then it started again.

"As well you shouldn't. I would be worried if you did."

"Explain it to me, then," he commanded, agitated and hurt. The man blinked owlishly at him, as if wondering just what he had to explain. Quickly, he composed himself, standing ramrod straight and dignified.

"I will explain everything once we are inside the castle. Come with me, then." He held out his hand, waiting for Alfred to take it. Seeing no other choice, Alfred hesitantly placed his own hand into the man's, sealing their fingers together. He felt a buzz go through him, electricity accompanying the pain and anguish and confusion. Startled, he jerked slightly, taking the man's hand with him and pulling him closer. The man-Alfred was getting really tired of referring to him as the man- staggered towards him, losing his footing for a split second before adjusting and righting himself. Their hands remained locked together, refusing to part even for a moment. Admittedly, it felt nice to hold his hand.

"What's your name?" Alfred grumbled in annoyance, staring straight ahead as they walked, getting closer and closer to the fantastic city.

"My apologies, my king. It's Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. I am your queen," he stated. Alfred whipped his head sideways to face him, mouth agape and eyes expressing his astonishment.

"But you're a guy," he chocked.

"Gender matters not here. Anyone can be anything. Even the king could be anyone, so long as the clock wills it so," he explained, eyes darting between Alfred and the landscape. He tried to hide it, and he hid it well, but Alfred could see Arthur was worried. About what, he was unsure.

"It's a purely political position, either way," he added. Alfred could accept that. If that was how things worked here, then he could accept it. Of course, it was still unsettling that something as constant as a woman standing as the queen seemed to matter not here, just as the sun was a crescent shape and the trees resembled spades. The name made sense, at least. Everything in Spades had to do with spades. That was constant.

This tidbit of information only meant that Alfred could no longer assume things here were the same as where he came from. Assumptions could lead to fighting, trouble, and making a fool of himself. He would have to throw all of his previous notions away and relearn everything about society. But then again, maybe he didn't. He wasn't at all too sure he wanted to stay. No, not at all. He wanted to go back home, not stay in Spades, no matter how beautiful it was here. But Arthur said he was king now. What would that entitle?

After what seemed like hours but was actually only a few minutes, they arrived at the gates of the city. They stood tall and proud, gleaming white with intricate designs on the tips of the bars that made it up. After closer inspection, Alfred realized that the gates were made of some strange metal that he had never seen before. It was completely smooth and strong, or so it appeared, and showed no signs of rusting. He became curious, examining the metal and wishing he could study it in private. He was a chemist in training, after all, and his inquisitive nature and thirst for knowledge only roused him more.

Alas, it would have to wait, for Arthur opened the gates and pulled Alfred inside. He heard a distinct, bell like chime as the doors closed, locking him into the city. He knew not what to do. He wasn't even sure he wanted to do anything anymore. He felt drained and tired. That incessant pain still lingered, exhausting him further. He yearned for a nice, long nap inside of a cozy room.

Alfred examined his surroundings, gazing acutely at the various buildings and homes that acted as building blocks for his own blue Oz. All of them comprised of the same material as the gates, all different hues of blue or white. Shops littered every street corner, apartment like buildings crowding in between them. It reminded Alfred of the drawings of strange, medieval towns he often saw in textbooks at school. However, contrary to what he heard about such overcrowded areas, the streets and buildings were spotless, almost like new.

The streets looked like glass and sparkled like diamonds. Paving stone designs were etched into them, giving them a futuristic yet ancient look.

The entire town gave off that vibe, as if it was stuck between a rift in time. Strange horse-drawn carriages that appeared to be a combination of sturdy glass and metal and hover cars of the same materials zoomed down the same street. Humongous billboards and small wooden signs clashed and competed. Food stalls and grocery stores stood side by side. The future and medieval times lived in harmony here. Everything was balanced and perfect.

Alfred continued to gaze in wonder of all the amenities and odd things around him. He spotted an outdoor spa alongside a brothel, both run by the same young woman who wore unbecoming blue clothes. Further down, he noticed various street entertainers performing for huge crowds in a colorful square. Beside them, a ritzy hotel welcomed its obviously wealthy customers.

One thing that stood out was the clothing. Everything-and he meant everything-looked to be made of varying shades of blue or white, and he didn't know why that was. It bothered him slightly. He was used to an innumerable variety of color, and while some areas did have different colors adorning them, most everything was blue. Blue, blue, blue, white, white, white, maybe purple or yellow or green. That aside, the clothes seemed to vary greatly. Anything from peasant dresses of the 14th century to slim fitting morph suits was fair game.

Fashion had never been his forte, so Alfred couldn't bring himself to care too deeply. No, he was more interested in gaining answers and possibly returning home. If he could. That possibility was starting to look very dark.

He glanced sideways at Arthur, who absentmindedly swung their hands together and led them through the streets. As they walked, more and more people noticed them, which garnered a vast amount of whispering and pointing amongst shouts of glee. Alfred found this unsurprising. After all, if what Arthur said was true, then both he and Alfred were royalty. The big dogs. The head honchos. Whatever.

They parted before him as if they were the sea and he was Moses and let Alfred and Arthur through as they walked. No one approached them. This he found odd.

"Shouldn't we be worried about them? Won't they try to hurt us or something?" he asked, leaning down closer to Arthur, trying to gauge his reaction.

He answered simply, without blinking, "They wouldn't dare."

"Why?" As baffled as he was, Alfred still felt relieved. They wouldn't dare touch him, so he was safe. Safe amongst a crowd of weird somewhat foreigners.

"I will explain everything in due time. Be patient." They neared the castle and Alfred stared in awe at its majesty. It looked far more enchanting up close. He found that he wouldn't mind staying here if he was able to live in such a glorious place. He would be quite happy to stay.

No gates or sentries stood guard outside the castle. Nothing separated it from the outside world, actually. Nothing but air. This was very dangerous. Why would someone leave such a glorious thing defenseless?

He soon found out why. Arthur loped forward, straight into the gardens of the castle that acted as the separator between the town and the palace. That was when Alfred felt it. Once he stepped upon the vibrant green grass, a warm feeling seeped into his body. For a moment, it felt like he was passing through gelatin. It was as if time slowed down, leaving him sluggishly inching his way forward. Then it resumed at normal pace and the feeling left as quickly as it had come, leaving him tripping forward.

"What was that?"

"Aren't you a good listener? I shall explain everything once you and I are safely in the castle." Arthur, still holding Alfred's hand, continued on, pulling his companion forward.

"I thought we were already safe. You said no one would dare get near us." After a brief pause of silence, Arthur slowly turned his eyes upon Alfred, giving him a chilling stare and smirk.

"My dear Alfred, I never said we weren't in danger." With that, Arthur once again set his gaze forward, although his comment alarmed Alfred more than the rift chill did. They neared the entrance to the castle, but Alfred noticed something very strange. The castle sat atop rock that was twenty feet above their heads. Surely, they wouldn't have to climb it, would they?

He soon found that they didn't, but the answer to his problem appeared out of thin air. Literally. Arthur merely took a step above the ground and ended up hitting a solid rectangle that lit up as he touched it. It flashed blue, suddenly solid before his eyes, and more followed in succession. Blue, solid rectangles became visible, going up higher and higher until they reached the huge ornate doors of the castle. Arthur continued on, Alfred right beside him the entire time. In all honesty, he feared for his life. As they ascended, so did Alfred's fear. He wasn't scared of heights so much as falling. He knew that one misstep would lead to his sudden death. So he followed Arthur closely, not once moving from his companion's side. Arthur didn't seem to mind. He hung onto Alfred's hand the entire way up.

Finally, they approached the humongous doors, which appeared sleek and fine. They were reminiscent of medieval ornate designs, yet they were made of the same strange metal he saw everywhere. As he leaned forward to observe them closer, they suddenly shot open. Instead of opening like normal doors should have-like Alfred expected them to-they disappeared into the sides of the building. Alfred was astounded that Spades had double pocket doors. Suffice to say, it impressed him greatly. His old country had yet to invest in such important needs and he felt really proud that his own country had such commodities. What other wonders did Spades hold?

Why am I thinking like that? he wondered. This isn't my country. I don't own it. I don't want it. I want to go back home. As soon as he thought the words, his stomach fell along with his hopes. He knew he wouldn't be going back. His instincts told him he wouldn't. But goddamn if Alfred wouldn't try his hardest.

Arthur sauntered in, leading Alfred inside and into the grand hall. Alfred's jaw fell as he took in his surroundings, his eyes roving and drinking in every detail they could. In the center of the room was a fire pit. Blue crystals occupied it. Royal blue rugs littered the room in key and fashionable places. Black and white tiles made up the floor of the gigantic hall and huge stained glass windows painted stories of days old. He knew that room very well. He'd been there multiple times in his dreams. And with the same person, too. The one he was currently holding hands with.

In all honesty, it didn't feel unnatural. He didn't feel uncomfortable and he was sure Arthur didn't mind, either. However, it was becoming increasingly awkward for him to hold onto this man's hand when he was the one invading Alfred's dreams and privacy. He let go, shaking his hand loose and stepping away from Arthur the Not-So-Stranger. Arthur, the Queen of Spades. Arthur, his queen. His and no one else's. Strangely enough, Alfred liked the sound of that.

He shook such traitorous thoughts from his head, wondering what the hell was happening to him. He didn't know much about Arthur. All he knew was that Arthur had seemingly endless knowledge about Alfred, somehow appeared in his dreams, and that he had very pretty eyes. Wait, no he didn't. Yes he did. No he didn't. Yes. No. Yes. No!

Yes he does. They're so beautiful. The words rang in Alfred's mind, buzzing and begging to be listened to. He tried his hardest not to listen, but he couldn't help it. What was wrong with him? Why were his thoughts betraying him? He didn't know Arthur, didn't know enough about him to like him or not. Especially that way.

"You wanted explanations, yes?" Arthur questioned, interrupting Alfred from his reverie. He snapped his head sideways to look at Arthur, staring straight into the eyes he liked so much. No, he didn't like them. Yes he did. He nodded rapidly, waiting for Arthur to speak again. However, he didn't. He merely turned around and walked away, heading toward a hall branching off to the left. Alfred jogged over to him, grabbing his shoulder roughly before he realized he even touched him. A shock ran through him, forcing him to pull away whilst shivering violently. Arthur followed suit, his body twitching in harmony with Alfred's. Unlike Alfred, however, Arthur didn't look in the least bit confused or upset. His eyes widened at the shock, but that was all.

"Don't do that," he chastised. "Not yet."

"What do you mean 'not yet'?" Not that he wanted to. Touch him again, that was. No, none of that.

"Once we enter our private sitting room, I will give you all the answers you seek. For now, please follow me, my king." He said the last two words cynically, as if mocking him. Alfred sniffed in disdain before mentally examining the first part of his statement.

"Our?" They continued to walk down the hall, the resounding click of Arthur's heeled boots echoing throughout the great halls of the palace. Alfred matched his pace reluctantly, head bowed and mood sour. The pain from earlier still wracked his body, refusing to leave. That, coupled with Arthur's uncooperative attitude, made Alfred irritated and angry. All he sought right now was answers. He just wanted answers.

Arthur suddenly veered off to the left, hand reaching out to open a seemingly ordinary door. They all looked the same, actually. Every single door was white and gleaming with gold designs outlining them. Every single door also happened to open in very different ways, as Alfred soon discovered. He examined Arthur's actions, watching his every move as he tried to open the aforementioned door. This one appeared to have some sort of lock on it. Arthur pressed his hand against the frame, fingers curling slightly, back straight and rigid. In a shower of blue hexagonal sparks, the door slowly disappeared, leaving an open entryway in its wake.

Beckoning Alfred to follow him, Arthur strolled casually inside and sat calmly atop a blue velvet chair. He crossed his legs, curling a finger in Alfred's direction before pointing to the remaining chair, which was bigger and darker than his own was. Alfred flopped down onto the chair tiredly, running a hand through his golden hair and sighing heavily before reestablishing eye contact with Arthur.

"Where am I?" he asked, getting straight to the point. "I know we're in Spades. But what exactly is Spades?"

With absolutely no hesitation, Arthur began his long narrative.

"Spades is a country in the world of Cards." Cards…What was the proper time at which cards reside? He wasn't talking about playing cards, then. If Alfred's assumptions were correct…What is the proper time at which Cards resides? He held onto that thought, knowing its importance for the future, and continued to listen to Arthur's explanation.

"Before you ask, Cards is comprised of four different countries." Arthur held up his fist, drawing attention to it.

"Spades." One finger shot up.

"Diamonds." Another one.

"Clubs." Three fingers now.

"And Hearts." He held up four fingers, each representing one of the countries.

"So, Cards is another world? Like, different than Earth?" Alfred inquired, absorbing every detail.

"It is both a different planet and in a different universe. Have you ever heard of the Multiverse theory?" Alfred nodded hurriedly. Of course he had. One couldn't desire to major in a scientific field without stumbling upon the theory some way or another.

"It is not a theory. It is a reality. Different universes exist, as do different planets. Cards is our universe's equivalent of your Earth. As you can see, it is not quite the same. We are more…advanced than your people. However, we do admire your diverse cultures and overall oddness. I've seen and met so many interesting characters there."

"So what you're saying is that there are an infinite number of universes out there? And my planet's scientists have yet to find existence of them?"

"Right on target, poppet."

"Wait. If you're from a different universe, why do you have an English accent?"

"You could say our universes are analogous. Some elements of your world are retained here. A number of your flags, for example, are similar to our national flag. Cards and Earth are in many ways parallel to each other."

"What came first? My world or yours?" Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed lightly, his irritation clear.

"Cards is old. But not as old as your Earth. Our countries were established a mere four hundred years ago. Before that, during a time we refer to as the Night Ages, everyone was completely disorganized and separated into different nations, each with its own terribly nationalistic peoples.

Different nations then banded together in hopes to stop the terrible violence occurring during those times. The nations of M'urica, Anglo, and Zhongguo joined together to form Spades. The nations of Hung, Auster, and Rossia joined to form Clubs. Alemania, Italia, and Japon formed Hearts. Lastly, Liech, Switzer, and Franco formed Diamonds. Different subgroups then banded together and joined each respective country. Coincidentally, many of these nations are quite similar to various states on Earth."

Alfred felt slightly amused at the travesty. They sounded so similar to the countries on his planet that it was ridiculous. He still needed answers, though, so he plowed on with his questions.

"Why am I here?"

"You're our new king. You will serve alongside me and guide Spades to the best of your ability." Alfred, exasperated, decided to elaborate.

"No, I meant why did you pick me, of all people? Shouldn't you have picked someone from this country? Or this planet?" The pain in his body started to make him severely uncomfortable. He shifted, trying to feel any sort of relief, but the pain was incessant. Arthur noticed and smirked slightly, almost as if he knew acutely of Alfred's plight and its cause.

"Tell me, do you feel any pain?" he asked, changing the subject. Alfred would have none of that, though.

"Yeah, but that's not important right now. Why did you pick me?"

"Oh, Alfred. The pain is precisely why I chose you. Well, that and another very important reason." He didn't continue, opting instead to stare intently at Alfred, which agitated him.

"Well? What's the reason?" Arthur blinked once, eyes wide, before shaking his head doggedly and returning his gaze.

"Oh, right. Do you remember the cold feeling you felt when you crossed the rift?"

"You mean the wall, right?" At Arthur's impatient nod, he continued. "Yeah. What was that?"

"The rift acts as the separator of our two universes. It separates all universes, actually. When someone unaccustomed to such changes the rift poses, as well as the radiation and magic it emits, passes through it, then their atomic structure changes and mutates to accustom the body to the energy it is absorbing. Such changes result in unrivaled, superhuman strength, vast amounts of stamina, and potent mental capabilities. Meaning, as I'm sure you have gathered, as soon as the pain leaves, your body will become strong and sturdy and your mental functions or capabilities will increase exponentially."

"So the rift is like my radioactive spider? Sweet!" Alfred couldn't help but feel excited despite the circumstances. He could be like all of those heroes everyone knew and loved. Hell, he could be even better!

"You are referring to that ridiculous Earth superhero, yes? Spiderman or something, I believe." At Alfred's vigorous nod, he plowed on with his explanations.

"No, the rift is not like your 'radioactive spider', as you so eloquently put it. It is stronger. For one thing, along with the increased mental capacity, you can now use what your people would refer to as 'magic'. We call it the same, but it is different from the way you would define it. I shall explain in due time. Now, the other reason I chose you, and perhaps the most important reason, is because the clock chose you."

"The clock? Oh, you mean that golden one you waved in front of my face?"

"Yes, that one. It is called the Spades Timekeeper, or Timekeeper for short. It chooses the next monarchs to rule over Spades. You noticed that the hands were pointing to us, yes?"

"Yeah. It was really weird. I thought you rigged it or something." It wasn't true, of course, but he felt he needed to add something.

"No, I did not. The Timekeeper runs on the same magic and energy the rift does, except it utilizes it differently. Its hands point to the king and queen respectively. The royals, coincidentally, live much longer than their subjects do."

"So you choose your royalty based on a clock?" he asked, astounded. "Seriously, dude?" Arthur merely blinked once and continued to gaze at Alfred innocently.

"I fail to see why you sound so condescending." Alfred sighed internally and shook his head minutely, wondering why a people seemingly so advanced would choose their leaders based on a clock's decisions. Maybe it was his inner American patriotism getting to him, but whatever the case, he found it completely silly.

"Anyway…I was kinda wonderin'…what's up with your city? I mean, it's nice and all, but it's weird. It looks like the Middle Ages and the Future threw up together here." Arthur's gaze turned stony and patronizing, which made Alfred feel pinpricks of fear go up his spine. Maybe he shouldn't have phrased it that way…

"Our society is different from yours. Remember that and you just might live to see the next day," he answered coldly, voice leaning more toward a whisper at the end. Alfred thought it best not to show his words getting to him, so he decided to change the subject.

"Okay. Sorry. But, um, how do I get back home?"

"You can't."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that not only are you not prepared enough to actually construct a portal and head through the rift, but you are not allowed to do so. You have a duty now. This entire country is now in your, our, hands. The crown rests upon your head, whether you like it or not."

"So you're keeping me here? Like a prisoner?" It didn't come as a surprise to him. He already knew he wouldn't be able to go back. He would never finish college, never see Matt or his parents-

Matt! His parents! He forgot all about them. What would they think when they found Alfred gone without a trace? He couldn't just leave them. He couldn't leave them without saying goodbye, at least!

"You are not a prisoner. You are a king. Aren't you excited about that prospect? Most would kill for the chance." He sat back, appraising Alfred with his too green eyes, relaxed yet not so, for Alfred could still see the guarded expression behind Arthur's gaze.

"Sure, I'm excited. What man doesn't dream of becoming king of his own country? Yeah, it's great and all…but what about my parents? What about Matt? I have to at least tell them…I have to tell them goodbye," he murmured, sorrow lacing his voice. "I can't just-!"

"Your brother and your parents have already been notified, Alfred. I've seen to it," Arthur stated, cutting Alfred off and leaving him stunned once again.

"What? How?"

"I knew you were my king the moment I saw you. You positively reek of Spades, Alfred. I knew everything about you, naturally. I notified your parents as soon as I thought you to be ready. They took it graciously. Even your brother seemed fine with it."

"They didn't even say anything." Alfred was hurt. His mom and dad hadn't said anything. Matt, his own brother, hadn't told him anything. Why?

"I advised them not to. You can still talk to them if you wish to. It is no problem." Alfred lit up at the words, both relieved and excited at the prospect of getting to talk to his family.

"How can I talk to them?"

"Simple. We have a device called a Looking Glass. The Looking Glass allows you to contact anyone you wish so long as they have a Looking Glass, as well. I have already given each of your family members one." Arthur reached down into the inside of his coat, groping around in search of something. With a small sound of triumph, he pulled out a beautifully decorated blue hand mirror, waving it dramatically in the air before handing the thing to Alfred. He took it cautiously yet eagerly, surprised at its light weight and extremely detailed design. Everything was detailed in Spades.

Alfred gazed inquiringly into the mirror's surface, puzzled as to how it functioned. Arthur noticed-Arthur noticed everything- and took pity upon the obviously confused boy.

"I will show you how to use it later. For now, you must put it away. Do you have any more questions to ask me?" He gently laid his hand atop Alfred's, as if he didn't even think about it, and kept up eye contact. His brow furrowed slightly and he licked his lips. Arthur twitched a bit, though he seemed unaware of it, and his hand trembled imperceptibly.

Alfred held his gaze, thinking-always thinking-and searched for any possible questions lounging in his mind. He found one.

"What do I do now?" Arthur smirked, his hand stilling, his breathing slowing.

"Right now, we must greet our Jack."

"Our Ja-?" A loud knock interrupted Alfred's question, distracting both of them. Arthur perked up at the sound, head snapping up to face the doors.

"Why, that must be him," he stated offhandedly. "Come in, Yao."

"Hello, Arthur," a strange accented voice called as the door dissolved, revealing an average sized Asian man piece by piece. "I see you were successful. Welcome, King Alfred."

"I take it you're Yao," Alfred commented, accentuating the end of the statement to make it sound more like a question than a comment. He stood up and extended his hand for Yao's taking, trying to be polite. Yao gripped his hand firmly, shaking it once, before dropping it and pushing his hand back into his huge robe sleeves. Just like everyone else, he wore blue. Blue robes, vaguely Oriental in style; blue pointed shoes, stripes decorating the edges; and a small dark blue hat of sorts, a feather decorating its top.

Alfred stepped back, giving Yao room to stand between him and Arthur. Yao examined them both, eyes gazing unnervingly at the monarchs, before he snapped his head up and closed his eyes.

"I sense Alfred will adjust very well into our society. He certainly looks like a M'urican. The Anglos and Zhongguos will not be pleased." Arthur sniffed once and faced the door, eyes half lidded and lip curled.

"Not like they can do anything about it. The clock chooses. They know that."

"Either way, there will still be some resentment."

"They've never resented the other kings. Even Clubs welcomed its new king with open arms."

"Who would fight against a man like Ivan? Noting his resemblance to Rossians, they were probably too afraid to do anything. The Rossians were pleased, though."

"They've always wanted a monarch with their language and resemblance. I wouldn't blame them. Either way, you knew Alfred would have to look like a M'urican. We already represent the Anglo and Zhongguo nations."

"Wait," Alfred interjected hastily. "You mean to say that other kings come from Earth, too?" Yao and Arthur exchanged a long look, communicating silently, before both nodded simultaneously. Arthur breathed in visibly, lips parting to allow the inhalation, before exhaling slowly, carefully.

"Yes. All kings from all countries come from Earth," he replied. "All of them." Alfred certainly did not expect that. But now that he thought about it, it made sense. Why just have one king from Earth? Surely, there must have been others. Still, if all kings came from Earth, where was the benefit? Why place kings who had no previous knowledge of how Cards and its countries worked on the throne?

"Where's the advantage?" he questioned aloud, not realizing he was voicing his musings. Yao sighed, as if he had the conversation countless times and tired of repeating it.

"The rift. The rift is the advantage. It gives the kings strength and abilities that are unrivaled. The clock has always chosen a king from Earth, as well. Never has the Timekeeper failed us. Each and every king served his country to his best potential and has seen to its advancement. How else do you think we became so advanced?"

Oh. A thought struck Alfred, which he found brilliant and completely exciting. He filed it away for later, when he could freely explore his new kingdom, and considered Yao's answer.

"…I see," he finally murmured, eyes peering over the rim of his spectacles. "Okay."

"Now that we have that settled, please take him to your room, Arthur. Rest, Alfred, for you have much to do tomorrow." With that, Yao swept out of the room, the door dissolving and reappearing in his wake. Alfred looked thoughtfully at the lingering sparks, thinking, pondering.

"Why did he tell you to take me to your room to rest?" he mumbled absentmindedly, still gazing at the door. He heard Arthur sigh and stand up, a warm hand settling upon his own as Arthur beckoned him to stand.

"Because it is our room. The king and queen usually share one. It allows for easier protection of the royals and…," he trailed off, his sentence hanging in the air, baiting Alfred and fueling his curiosity.

"And what? Come on, Arthur. Don't leave me hangin'," he not-whined, for he never whined.

"And nothing, Alfred. And nothing. Come, then. Unless you wish to have a separate room? I can arrange one for you if you feel too uncomfortable sharing one with me," Arthur breathed hurriedly, eyes roaming the room, almost avoiding Alfred. He shook his hand free of his king's, stepping forward determinedly and silently. The white carpet muted his steps, sucked most of the noise in the room into its soft body. It hid noise very well and looked invitingly cozy. Alfred fought the urge to slip down onto the floor and let sleep take him. A yawn forced its way through his still pained body, worsening the dull ache in his flesh and bones. Wincing, he rubbed his tired limbs and followed his queen.

"I'm fine with it. I mean, we're both dudes, right?" Arthur looked back at him expressionlessly before resuming his previous stance.

"Yes, of course," he whispered. "We are both men, so no problem should arise."

Besides, Alfred thought. I feel quite comfortable around you.

They walked down the corridor, passing dozens of closed doors with key pads and some without, heading to the very back of the castle. After many twists and turns, which Alfred hadn't a hope of memorizing just yet, Alfred noticed the corridors begin to dim slightly, growing fainter and fainter, bluer and bluer. He couldn't fathom why, only that it was happening and it felt comforting in some strange way. The blue tainted everything, touched everything, felt everything, distorted it comfortingly. It edged into the dark corners, making them light again, refilling them with a special blend of blue and black.

After so many minutes of silent walking, Arthur stopped, his feet stilling with a resounding click. He faced a door that was much larger than the rest, beautifully decorated yet simple in design. It had a smooth white surface, as most everything did in Spades, with golden trim. A huge blue diamond shaped to look like a spade sat atop the majestic mess of swirls and curls. Although it looked similar to almost every door in the castle, it held some sort of secret majesty, as if beyond these doors, something special waited and important things occurred.

Arthur placed his hand on the door, curling his fingers just like before, and it gleamed once, bright white light rippling across its surface quickly. The door shattered, metal raining down and disappearing onto the cold, hard surface of the ground. It didn't surprise him, though why the doors opened in such different fashions was beyond him. In all honesty, it was kinda cool.

"Wow," he breathed as Arthur stepped aside, arms wide as if presenting something completely amazing, which he was. Alfred stepped inside, marveling at the beauty of the room before him, his mouth agape and eyes wide with wonder.

The simplicity yet clashing complexity of the room left him reeling. Two comfortable looking glass chairs floated and bobbed near the window, the light streaming in reflecting off the chairs' surfaces and creating rainbows that spilled onto the floor. Reflective glass made up the floor, a royal blue carpet hiding underneath the huge, king-sized bed-which more than accommodated both Alfred and Arthur-and two other blue rugs sitting beneath the bedside tables. Instead of lamps, balls of pretty, multicolored lights floated and swayed above the tables, dancing to unheard melodies. The bed, covered with huge, fluffy pillows and a matching white comforter sporting a gigantic blue spade, hovered comfortingly, serenely, as if it were made to do something as impossible as float. The curtains, so white they were almost invisible, fluttered lazily as air streamed in through the open windows.

Perfection embodied. Alfred, positively beaming from amazement, ran to the bed and jumped, feeling it fall down under his weight then bob back up. He laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls, and rolled onto his back, arms resting under his head.

"A guy could get used to this," he murmured, talking more to himself than Arthur, but the man heard him anyway.

"I suppose it is rather amazing when you think about it. We've grown so accustomed to seeing such wonders, we've forgotten how to feel amazed by it. Funny how familiarity begets apathy," Arthur stated. He walked primly, carefully, over to Alfred, gently sitting down on the unoccupied side of the bed.

"Tell me." Alfred glanced over at Arthur, his lips pursing as he nodded for him to go on. "Why are you taking this so well? Any other person would be terrified. They wouldn't believe me."

"I'm not. I wasn't. I wanted to leave as soon as I could. I still plan to," he blurted out, unable to control his mouth and words from spewing out. "But I'm startin' to feel too at home. I feel more and more like I belong here, like…like I need to be here."

"That's because you do, Alfred." Alfred propped himself up on the headboard of the bed, looking down at his hands studiously before peering up at Arthur.

"You were made to lead Spades. The country was born to have you as its king. It's your destiny. Everything you are and want to be ties into the needs for the kingdom and its people. I was made to aid you and…keep you company." Arthur glanced everywhere, finally settling on his hands. He rubbed them as if to keep warm and his gaze became distant.

"Tailored," he paused. "Just for you."

"So you're telling me that I was literally born to rule in a different reality and you were born just to be my sidekick?" Arthur sputtered angrily at Alfred's comment, gazing sharply away from him as he breathed heavily through his nose.

"No, not your sidekick. More of a…life partner, if you will."

"Get some rest," he breathed abruptly. "You'll need it if you wish to survive tomorrow." With that, he clapped his hands, blanketing the room in complete darkness, although Alfred was not sure how it worked.

"What do I sleep in?" he whispered. Arthur sighed. He sat up slowly, tiredly, and motioned to the wardrobe sitting in one of the corners.

"Just think of what you wish to wear, and it shall appear. Good night." He gently rid himself of his top hat and coat, removed his shirt, and discarded his pants. His shoes landed heavily on the floor as he kicked them off. He snapped his fingers and the balls of light dimmed until they barely shone, casting just enough light to see vague shadows about the room. In nothing but his patriotic boxers, Arthur concealed himself in the pillows and comforter and drifted off into a heavy sleep. Alfred quietly-so as not to disturb Arthur-made his way to the wardrobe. He paused, thinking over the queen's commands, and pursed his lips thoughtfully. Shrugging, he thought of some simple basketball shorts and a tank top then opened the double doors with a flourish. Empty inside, save for two hangers swaying lightly. One held the shorts while the other held the tank top.

Alfred whistled lowly to himself in astonishment as he yanked the top and shorts out of the wardrobe and changed into them. Chuckling lowly to himself, he tossed his clothes into a corner of the room and waddled over to the bed, slowly sinking into the soft mattress. He glanced over at Arthur, sizing up the only slightly shorter man as he breathed evenly and slept.

"Good night, Arthur. Sweet dreams," he whispered before turning over to face the opposite way, his eyes slipping closed. He fell into sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Looks about time to update. Terribly sorry for the wait, as always, but inspiration can be a cruel mistress. Anyhow, once again a big thanks to all of you that favorited/followed/reviewed. You don't know how happy I am that you guys have stuck around and read my poor writing. I hope the next chapter will be better. Allons-y!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or Doctor Who.**

* * *

"Wake up, Alfred. It's time," someone whispered. Alfred groaned, yawning as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He sat up quickly, almost bashing his head against the person hovering before him, and panicked when he opened his eyes and couldn't see.

"My glasses!" he sputtered as he gazed about frantically, straining his eyes as if that would help him see. It wouldn't. The person before him roughly grabbed his face and slipped his precious spectacles onto them, and suddenly Arthur appeared in Alfred's now perfect vision. A frown marred his face, his little top hat slipping down to the right slightly as he tilted his head.

"Calm down, you ninny. You're fine. Now get dressed. You must visit the ER." Alfred gawked, appalled at Arthur's words.

"Why do I need to go to the ER? Do I need some emergency operation? Am I sick? Am I dying? I can't die yet. I haven't been king for even a day!" Arthur stared at him with wide eyes, surprise evident on his face as he examined his new king.

"What are you babbl-…Oh. Yes, the ER means Emergency Room in your place, doesn't it? You needn't worry. The ER stands for Education Room. Now get dressed." Alfred happily mumbled to himself, content with the fact that he was fine, and walked over to the dresser to think himself up an outfit. He turned to check and see what Arthur was wearing, which happened to be a similar outfit to that of yesterday, and returned his attention to the dresser. A sudden brilliant idea came to him and he chuckled as he thought up the clothes he wanted and dressed into them.

"Look, Artie!" he exclaimed chirpily. "We match!" Arthur faced him wearily, almost angrily, and took in Alfred's new attire. Certainly, it matched. Blue loafers and a blue trench coat complimented the white dress shirt and blue trousers Alfred wore. A beautiful spades themed tie gleamed under his collar, hidden just under the perky man's blue stripped vest. Arthur quite liked it, but that wasn't the point right now.

"Don't call me Artie. My name is Arthur."

"Haha! Don't be so moody, Arthur. I just thought it was nice." Alfred needed to test Arthur, to see what waters were safe to swim in and what boundaries were safe to cross. As a scientist, he needed to think rationally. Acting like a buffoon would certainly let him examine Arthur much more intimately as showing his intelligence would make him appear much more untrustworthy. That was how he justified his actions.

He also wanted to try out the nickname. He thought it was cute, but Artie apparently didn't think so.

"Come on then, Alfred. We must head for the ER." Alfred dutifully followed his queen, his thoughts racing as he tried to figure out why exactly Arthur was taking him there.

"Why are you taking me to the ER?"

"You need to learn about our country's history and political standing as soon as possible. Your coronation will be quite soon." Arthur glanced quickly at Alfred, almost as if he hoped Alfred wouldn't notice, but he did. Alfred smirked as he examined Arthur's face acutely, wondering just what went on in that man's mind. He really wanted to know for some reason. On impulse, he reached down and grabbed Arthur's hand, eliciting a gasp from Arthur. However, he did nothing else, which puzzled Alfred, but then again, it wasn't like they hadn't held hands before. Maybe Arthur was accustomed to it…? Maybe. Possibly.

But what did Alfred feel? Well, he felt…he felt lighter, almost as if by holding Arthur's hand he shared the weight of the world with him, which wasn't far from the truth. Arthur was now his sidekick, his best friend, his lifetime partner, as Arthur said just the day before. He had to take care of him. He had to.

It was relatively impossible for minutes to become seconds in the literal sense, but that's what they seemed to do with Alfred as of late. Arthur jerked to a stop almost as soon as Alfred concluded his thoughts and gestured with his free hand to the strangely purple doors looming before them. The letters ER illuminated the doors' surfaces, casting a strange light upon the already bluish hallway. Alfred tilted his head subconsciously as he neared the doors, curious as to what exactly went on behind them.

Arthur leaned forward and pressed his palm gently on the door before jerking back quickly, almost terrified to leave it there for too long. Two walls suddenly slammed together in front of the doors before falling to the floor and fading, leaving an unnerving gaping hole in the wall.

"What the hell was that?" Alfred questioned, aghast. Why would they keep around such dangerous doors and entrances? Arthur brushed his hand on his coat and examined his fingernails carefully before glancing up at Alfred.

"I forgot to mention that most of the doors are faulty. Usually, they're supposed to slide inside like the front doors. However, after an experiment gone awry…well, the doors react differently now. We're still trying to work out the bugs in the system." Alfred pondered Arthur's words for a second, judging his capability in dealing with that situation.

"Well, I'm pretty good with computers. I could help, maybe." Arthur's gaze grew skeptical, as if challenging Alfred's abilities. He, of course, took offence to that. Alfred decided it was time to give Arthur a taste of what exactly he was capable of accomplishing. He still stuck by his plan on acting like a moron, but he knew even morons had limits.

"Show me the way, cupcake. I know what I'm doing," Alfred commanded as he gazed down at Arthur impassively. However, it seemed Arthur was having none of his shit today.

"Excuse me, but who do you believe you are addressing? Last time I checked, I was in charge of you, not the other way around, so you better learn some respect, young man!" Alfred merely scoffed, his feathers figuratively ruffled.

"You can't be that much older than me."

"I've been alive for one hundred and twenty three years now." Alfred choked on air, coughing vehemently as he realized what Arthur said. Arthur gently patted his back as he tried to clear his throat, silently apologizing for startling Alfred.

"You're what?" Alfred managed to choke out, face contorted into a mask of pain not unlike the one he wore when he ran into the brick wall. Arthur sighed heavily, still stroking Alfred's back in a comforting manner.

"I'm one hundred and twenty three years old, the reason being that anyone of the royal suit, which happens to be you, me, and Yao, run on different times than the rest of the populace."

"You're…trying to tell me that we run on different time?" Alfred questioned, his tone disbelieving. He emphasized the last two words, accentuating his utter incredulity with what Arthur said.

"Everyone has their own internal clock. Usually, everyone's internal clock runs at the same pace. However, for some reason, the royal suits run on much slower time. Meaning, as I'm sure you've gathered considering the idiot plan does not work with me, that you and I…we live for years. Decades, centuries, millennia!" Arthur's face looked so brilliant, so alive. Alfred loved it. He wanted Arthur to always look like that. But hold on, what did he just say?

"Wait, what?"

"You heard me. We could live for a long time. So long as the Timekeeper wills it so." Arthur's eyes shone bright, the various greens accentuated in the odd light. Alfred smiled fondly and began reaching out to touch Arthur's face. He hesitated. He dropped his hand. He shouldn't. He shouldn't do that. He just met Arthur, and although he was usually very intimate with people, with Arthur it felt…different. His heart raced and his palms grew sweaty. He knew what it meant, but he really didn't want to admit that to himself.

"How did you know about my 'act like an idiot' plan?" Arthur's smile turned mischievous.

"When you have lived as long as I have, you pick up on a few things. Suffice to say, I know about your potential, Alfred. I know you are a genius. I didn't doubt your ability to fix the system." Alfred smiled brightly at the complements.

"However, in Spades, we write in both English and Chessik. The system uses Chessik, and I know you cannot read it yet." Oh. Now Alfred understood. Arthur didn't doubt his intelligence at all! He was simply worried that Alfred could not read Chessik!

"Oh, that's fine! I think if you give me a basic rundown of the language, I can figure the rest out myself." Arthur maintained his skepticism, frowning lightly as he traced his hand over his chin in thought.

"How about this," he began, heading into the room and beckoning Alfred to follow. "I will program the ER computer to install the language onto your internal hard drive-your brain, I mean-and then you can check the computers. Does that sound fine?"

"Of course!" A humongous chair sitting in the middle of the room stole Alfred's attention. Wires connected to it from every direction through the ceiling and a huge spherical, helmet-like object hovered above it. Arthur told him to sit down in the chair and placed the helmet on his head carefully. Alfred could still hear Arthur typing away at a computer not far from the chair, his fingers moving increasingly faster as time progressed. Finally, with a resounding click of a button-most likely the enter button-the chair whirred mechanically underneath Alfred, a soft vibration accompanying the sound.

He felt a rush of energy-electricity-rush through his body, forcing it to arch against the restraints of the chair he hadn't felt before. He gnashed his teeth and gripped the sides of the chair tightly, sweat trickling down his face and staining the white collar of his shirt. His brain felt fried and his head hurt tremendously as he cried out, wishing for the pain to just stop already.

Finally, after what felt like years but could only be a few minutes at most, the pain stopped and he sighed with relief as he relaxed against the back of the chair. His fingers were stiff from having been clenched for so long and so tightly, so he moved them carefully. He heard Arthur shuffling closer to him.

"Ow," he grumbled as the sound of metallic things clanging onto the floor assaulted his hearing. "Well, that's not particularly good."

"What happened?" Alfred wondered aloud as Arthur undid the straps holding him in place and gently removed the helmet from his head.

"I dropped a package of sonic screwdrivers. How clumsy of me." Arthur gazed down at the little metallic tubes quietly, almost sorrowfully, as Alfred realized just why those words sounded so familiar.

"You watch Doctor Who?" Arthur tore his gaze from his beloved screwdrivers and stared questioningly at Alfred.

"Doctor Who? No, what is it?" He titled his head slightly to the side, distracting Alfred for just second…Alfred shook his head to clear his thoughts and tried his best to explain what the show was about. However, it didn't necessarily work out.

"So you mean to tell me he flies around in his blue box and saves other creatures?"

"No, well, yes, but…you know what? Never mind. Culture differences. I might show it to you one day." Arthur smiled slightly, his eyes lighting up as he gazed at Alfred.

"That would be lovely, dear." He reached up and stroked Alfred's cheek, paralyzing him in the process. Alfred couldn't remember how to breathe. He tried, but his chest constricted terribly and his eyes remained locked onto Arthur's face, searching for…something.

"Well." Arthur's voice snapped him out of his trance and he remembered how to breathe again. He inhaled deeply as Arthur retracted his hand and began walking toward the door, obviously expecting Alfred to follow. That reminded him of why they were there in the first place.

"This feels weird," he commented, rubbing one of his temples gently to soothe the worsening headache he currently felt. "It's like I kinda know everything but it's fuzzy."

"It will take you quite a bit to adjust, I'm afraid. For now, the knowledge will come in bits and pieces. Anyway, I installed a language block inside of your memory." Arthur leaned over a desk and pulled out a giant card covered with strange emboldened markings. "Tell me, can you read this?"

Alfred concentrated on the markings, wondering just how that language block was supposed to work. He couldn't make heads or tails of the sign at first. He glared and he stared and he watched and he grimaced, all to no avail. He sighed and was about to tell Arthur that he couldn't understand a lick of those symbols, when suddenly, everything seemed to shift. Nothing changed. Everything remained the same as it had been. However, now Alfred understood what the card was saying.

"Seriously? You're an idiot. You couldn't give me something more creative?" Arthur laughed as he placed the card back on the desk he retrieved it from.

"You understand Chessik now," he stated, eyes bright and wonderful. Alfred smiled along with him and they shared a few chuckles.

"Could you show me the computers now?" Arthur nodded and led him over to another door just to the side of the overcrowded chair.

"Here's the control room. Do you ne-?" A robotic voice interrupted Arthur's speech, forcing both of them to listen as it relayed important news.

"Yao requests the immediate presence of the king and queen in the throne room. I repeat, Yao requests the immediate presence of the king and queen in the throne room. I repeat, Yao…"

"Looks like Yao needs us." Alfred sighed and headed for the door, opening it easily and allowing Arthur to exit first. Alfred walked just behind his queen, conflicted. His hands twitched and his brow furrowed as he debated internally whether or not to do what he had in mind. In the end, he decided it would be safe, as it was already established that such an action was completely fine. He reached out tentatively to hold Arthur's hand again, except this time, he pulled Arthur closer to his body. Arthur stiffened slightly before relaxing quickly into Alfred's strange hold. Alfred smiled lightly, gazing down at Arthur's soft blond hair as he leaned closer…

Stop that! he thought. Stop it.

They finally arrived at their destination and Alfred released Arthur, stepping away from him as Yao raised a questioning eyebrow.

"You two seem to be getting along rather well. That's good." He smirked slyly and stared at Arthur, who grew red and spluttered as he tried to steer the conversation away from that topic. Alfred merely gazed at them amusedly, not following what Yao was implying.

"Why did you call us here?" Arthur asked, crossing his arms petulantly over his chest as he gazed unnervingly at the Jack. Yao grew serious and motioned for them to look at the thrones sitting dejectedly against the wall.

"Alfred's coronation must be soon. I sense trouble is brewing." Arthur frowned at his words and scratched absentmindedly at his cheek.

"What do you mean?"

"One of the Seers came around today. She told me the situation with the Winter Zones is worsening." Arthur's frown deepened, his expression as grim as Alfred had ever seen it before; it caused him to worry.

"Judging from the fact that they're called Seers, I assume that they can see into the future. What are the Winter-Wait, never mind, I know." Alfred's memory sparked as the almost encyclopedic knowledge of the Winter Zones came to him and he started. They were located along the North and South Poles, both supposedly uninhabited save for…something. He couldn't quite tell what…

"Never mind that. What about the Winter Zones?" Yao and Arthur stared at him speechlessly, quietly assessing him once again, and Yao sighed in resignation.

"Our censors have been picking up strange…readings from those areas for about three months now, I believe and we've had various Seers and some of the SM members investigate, but they've either disappeared or come back saying nothing was wrong at all. However, this Seer told me that something was coming. She couldn't see anything beyond that. This means you need to have your coronation soon. Since you've been installed with the knowledge all kings must know, you need not study anything more. However, you will still have to meet the other royals and participate in all of the Spades celebrations." Arthur looked worriedly at Alfred as Yao continued to blabber on and on. Alfred turned to look at him too, but then Yao called for his undivided attention.

"Did you hear me? You need to greet the other royals. I will start planning everything and sending out invitations. King Francis of Diamonds lives fairly close and has great relations with Spades, so he will most likely come first. The others will take time to arrive." Yao bustled off and mumbled to himself about all of the things he needed to do and all of the planning that had to be done. Arthur gave a derisive snort as Yao scuttled away and angled his body to completely face Alfred.

"This is most troublesome." Alfred frowned, nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, I wonder what's happening in the Winter Zones…" Arthur scratched at his chin in thought, his eyes snapping up to meet Alfred's head on.

"Yes, that is very worrisome. However, I was talking about King Francis joining us soon." He shuddered lightly and moved closer to Alfred absentmindedly. Of course, Alfred didn't mind. (He welcomed it.)

They both stared at each other silently for a few moments before guffawing, chuckling and laughing as if their lives depended on it. Alfred wiped at his eyes as tears collected, his abdomen protesting in pain. Arthur chortled and hugged his side with one arm, the other lingering on Alfred's shoulder.

"Why are you more worried about that?" Alfred gasped, still chuckling periodically.

"He's absolutely atrocious!" Arthur sniffed, laughter still lacing his voice. "You will never meet a more lewd and flamboyant character."

"Really? He sounds interesting. Can't wait to meet him!" Arthur groaned and rolled his eyes, and Alfred silently wondered why exactly Arthur was so troubled. He soon found out.

It wasn't but a day later that King Francis of Diamonds along with the Queen and Jack of Diamonds materialized right in front of Alfred, causing the poor boy to start terribly. The King merely smirked as he assessed Alfred.

"My, my," he whispered, his eyes examining every inch-and he meant every inch-of Alfred's body, appreciation noticeable in his eyes. "You are certainly fit to be king. King Francis of Diamonds, at your service." He bowed graciously and noticed Arthur silently fuming behind Alfred, causing his smirk to widen impossibly.

"Mon cher! It has been too long! I have not seen you in almost fifty years."

"For a reason, frog." Alfred watched them bicker bemusedly for just a moment before turning back to face the Queen and Jack.

"Welcome, Queen Lily and Jack Vash. I am-or should I say will be-King Alfred of Spades. It is a pleasure to meet you." He bowed just as Francis had done before, his smile never once slipping from his face. Alfred loved to smile, so it wasn't unnatural in the slightest. In fact, it was most welcome.

"Greetings, King of Spades. I want to congratulate you on your forthcoming coronation. I am pleased to meet you." Queen Lily curtsied and Alfred swore his heart was about to burst. She was so adorable, almost doll-like, and her voice rang sweetly in the throne room. Alfred's eyes softened and she smiled tentatively, blushing just the tiniest bit. Jack Vash noticed; he was her brother, so of course he would notice. After attempting to exchange pleasantries with Vash, which was exceedingly awkward as the man refused to speak more than a few necessary words to him, Alfred turned his attention back to his queen. Arthur and Francis were still bickering.

"What do you mean my hair is hideous!"

"I mean what I say, Arthur. Your eyebrows are still incredibly ridiculous, even after all this time."

"And your personality is just as terrible as it was before."

"Come now. Why don't we try to get along better, hmm?"

"Over your cold, dead body, git. I'll get along with you when you start shaving off that hideous beard."

"That was cruel, rosbif. Very cruel, indeed. However, for the sake of our dearest soon-to-be king, Alfred, I will forgive you."

"Just shut up already!" Francis shuffled closer to Arthur and wrapped an arm around his shoulders in an attempt to calm him down, which angered him greatly. As he punched and tried to pull away from Francis, Alfred couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy hit his chest and spread. He tensed, his fingers curling into his palms, making his nails bite into his skin almost painfully.

"How long have you two known each other?" he questioned anxiously, vying to keep his voice calm and cool. Arthur, still trying to push away the other monarch, decided to grace his question with an answer.

"Since we were born, practically. And I hated him even before that." Alfred relaxed slightly as he heard the obvious loathing in Arthur's voice.

"The feeling is mutual, although I was born about a decade before you, Arthur." Francis quipped, smiling lightly. Arthur finally managed to succeed in pulling away from Francis and all but ran to Alfred's side, gripping the King's arm as though his life depended on it. Alfred smiled and relaxed, glad that Arthur was back at his side where he belonged.

Briefly, he wondered where exactly these thoughts were coming from. Why did he feel so protective of that equivocally cool and warm fellow? He silently pried Arthur's hand off his arm and laced their fingers together, and a sudden rush of warmth and electricity overcame both him and Arthur, making them shiver. King Francis watched amusedly, his eyes approving and proud.

"Have you both been getting along well? I would assume so, correct, Arthur? Ah, l'amour! How beautiful!" Arthur glared scarily at Francis, conveying his anger quite well. Francis became confused and worried, wondering just why Arthur looked at him like that.

"Hmm? What is wrong?" he asked, glancing at his queen and jack briefly. They-meaning Lily-watched the transpiring events with worried eyes. Vash stood stoically by her side, raising a protective arm over his sister.

"You must learn to keep your mouth shut, Bonnefoy. I will discuss this with you later in private," Arthur spat, his hand tightening against Alfred's almost painfully. Alfred squeezed back in warning and felt more than saw Arthur's grip loosen.

"What's wrong, Arthur?" Arthur glanced up at him, his eyes softening at the sight of Alfred, and smiled warmly.

"Nothing, Alfred. It's nothing." Alfred looked down at him with an equally soft expression. He thought he would discuss the matter with Francis, too, so that he could find out what was bothering Arthur. Right now, he found it best to just play along.

Francis watched them curiously, a hand stroking his chin absentmindedly. Alfred saw him open his mouth to say something, but Jack Yao swept into the room before he could say anything.

"King Francis! A pleasure as always." They exchanged pleasantries and bowed to each other. Yao did the same with Queen Lily and Jack Vash.

"Would you like someone to show you to your rooms?" Yao asked.

"Please, Jack Yao. That would be wonderful." A servant, one of the first Alfred saw actually working in the palace, came and escorted the visiting royals to their rooms. Alfred watched them leave and made up his mind that as soon as Arthur left him alone, he would go find Francis and ask him about Arthur's behavior.

"Come," Yao commanded. "I must explain a few things to you both."

Off they went, following Yao obediently and without question. Alfred noticed a servant wearing some sort of cloak milling about, not really doing much of anything except staring at them. When the servant noticed Alfred's questioning gaze, he lifted his head and smirked, and Alfred made out hints of brilliant white hair and startling red eyes. Arthur asked him a question and Alfred turned to face him as he answered.

"What were you looking at?"

"Oh, nothing." In truth, he couldn't remember. He thought he remembered something…but he couldn't recall what. He shrugged it off and kept walking.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello, once again. Of course, many thanks to those that favorited/followed/reviewed. You guys are the reason I keep writing this drivel. Anyway, I hate fillers as much as the next person, but character and plot development are very important, so keep an eye out for anything strange. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters.**

* * *

"King Ivan and King Ludwig will be coming in two days. After that, we will start inviting the nobles and prominent members of Parliament. Some upper middle class families have also decided to attend."

"Do I need to memorize any names?" Alfred questioned. He sat once again in the huge chair in his and Arthur's sitting room, listening to Yao as he told him what he needed to know.

"Yes. Remember that we are inviting three members of the Hearts Parliament, which are Lovino Vargas, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, and Heracles Karpusi. We are also inviting two members of the Clubs Parliament, which are Toris Laurinaitias and Natalia Arlovskaya. The Diamonds monarchy is experiencing problems with the Diamonds Parliament, so no member shall be attending. Now, from our Parliament, we are inviting Im Yong Soo and Alistair Kirkland-"

"Wait, you have a brother, Artie?" Alfred asked. "You never told me that."

"I never told you because we have only just met three days ago, Alfred. Obviously, I never mentioned my brother. I have four brothers, actually. Alistair was the only one that actually decided to do something with his life."

"Whoa, dude. Come on, you know everything about me! I need to know everything about you or it won't be fair."

"Oh, you'll found out soon enough," Arthur huffed, crossing his arms. Alfred made a face and looked back up at Yao, who continued talking throughout the entire exchange.

"We must decide whether or not to invite the other members of the lower middle class, as well. What do you think, Arthur?" Arthur propped himself on his right elbow and cleared his throat with his left hand.

"I believe we should only restrict the guest list to a few prominent members of the upper class and upper middle class. Security matters and all that."

"What do you think, Alfred?" Yao inquired.

"Yes, I…" He cleared his throat. "I do believe that is a smart decision. Especially since it's going to be broadcasted around the world, anyway."

"Have we discussed everything on the agenda, then?"

"I believe so," Arthur answered. "There is nothing else to discuss."

"Excellent. I shall complete the preparations."

"Wait! Yao, could I ask for one favor? Please?" Alfred begged, fiddling with the collar of his shirt and looking down at his shoes as he spoke. Yao, startled, turned to face him, an eyebrow raised at Alfred's question.

"Yes, of course."

"Could I invite my brother? He won't cause any trouble and he's really nice. I mean it and I would really love it if he could come see the coronation, so please, could I…?"

"You're babbling, love," Arthur stated, shooting him a look that Alfred could not interpret whatsoever. He shrugged and waited for Yao's verdict, fully expecting the man to turn down his request.

"I don't see any problem with it. Have you discussed it with him?" Surprised, Alfred glanced up and nodded once.

"Very well, then. I shall send for someone to bring him." He nodded once to himself and turned to leave, but Alfred stopped him with a tug of his robe.

"Yao, if you need any help, I could possibly provide it," he offered, very much grateful to Yao for allowing his brother to attend.

"It is fine, Alfred. It is my duty as a Jack to deal with preparations and ceremonies. The king and queen merely have to tend to the guests while I am busy. It is completely fine." Alfred sighed and nodded, leaving Yao to bid his goodbyes and tend to the ceremony's preparations. Arthur rose up from his seat and stopped right in front of Alfred, holding out a hand for the soon-to-be king to take, which he did. He rose up and absentmindedly fixed Arthur's little top hat-it was leaning precariously on the right-before giving him a tired smile.

"I know it's only been like three days," he began, "but I'm really tired."

"Still?" Arthur queried absently. "I thought it would have left you by now. Do you feel any different?"

"I don't think so."

"I'm going to take you training tomorrow. We must begin already." He fixed Alfred's tie, which was leaning to the side, and stepped away from him as he dusted his hands. "Your coronation will be in one month, and with the aid the rift has provided you, you should be able to memorize everything that wasn't programmed into you in the ER. Apart from that, I must also teach you how to use your magic and train in combat. It will not be easy."

"I think I can handle it. I still have to fix the computers, remember?"

"Indeed, you-"

A light, trilling laugh interrupted Arthur, causing him to frown and glare at the offender. King Francis entered the room gleefully, his amusement growing as he noticed Arthur's irritation.

"Hello, mes amis. You said to meet you here, correct, Arthur?" Alfred grew unreasonably jealous as his mind registered Francis's words. He knew Arthur requested to speak to him later, but why now? Why here, in their private sitting room?

"How in the hell did you bypass the security system?"

"Yao let me in!"

"I gotta go," Alfred sighed, marching away. "You two seem busy anyway."

"Alfred, wait!" Arthur called, but Alfred chose to ignore him and keep walking. Alfred knew he was being irrational in how he was acting. He knew he shouldn't be jealous of King Francis. But he couldn't help it.

He knew why he was acting this way. However, he refused to admit it, even to himself. He decided to keep quiet about the whole affair.

"Welcome, King Ivan, Queen Elizabeta, and Jack Roderich of Clubs. We hope you enjoy your stay," Yao bellowed, bowing down to the visiting monarchs. The rest of the royals followed suit, Alfred glancing up as he bowed before the Clubs visitors. They straightened quickly and offered handshakes and warm smile, exchanging pleasantries and whatnot. Alfred boldly walked up to King Ivan, whom was a good six inches (or more) taller than him, and stretched out his hand for the king to shake.

"Welcome, King Ivan. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Jones." His smile seemed very insincere and Alfred returned it with the same amount of coldness. "I've heard good things about you, even though you have only been around for five days now."

"Likewise." They stared each other down, waiting for the other to crack. Truthfully, all Alfred could remember about King Ivan was whatever information popped into his brain that had been implanted and the first time Arthur mentioned him. He knew that Ivan intimidated a good number of people, and he may or may not have been running illegal activities in his own country. Regardless, Alfred wasn't about to let the man scare him, not matter how much bigger he was or how much older.

Suddenly, Queen Elizabeta appeared and pushed King Ivan away, extending her hand for Alfred to shake. She was nice and friendly, and Alfred found himself laughing along to a little joke she made. Alfred wondered why she was so different from King Ivan; he might not have heard much about the king, but he certainly heard a lot about the queen. Elizabeta was known far and wide for being a former knight that fought and won various honors during the Clubs-Hearts War. Soon after she arrived home, the Clubs Timekeeper chose her as the queen. He felt it was a great honor to know someone as successful and likeable as the Queen of Clubs.

Jack Roderich approached resentfully and greeted Alfred soon after Elizabeta left to chat with the others. He struck Alfred as rather dignified in the sense that he seemed to come from an aristocratic background. He held himself as any noble did and spoke with a pompous cadence, a bored expression never leaving his face. Alfred didn't know if he liked him or not. The only things Alfred could recall about him was that he was rich and hosted a plethora of dinner parties every now and again; apparently they were a big deal in Clubs, although he could not fathom why.

After a few tense moments of conversing with Jack Roderich, Alfred slunk back to Arthur, who stood stoically beside Yao and watched as the other monarchs conversed pleasantly.

"These greetings and ceremonies seem really odd, you know. I feel like we're a bit too…"

"Familiar? Informal? Casual? Indeed, we are. Most of it is just for show, anyway. The people love having ostentatious ceremonies. Many of the monarchs find them tedious, including myself," Arthur murmured, still gazing at the casual conversation occurring around him.

"I always thought royals and nobles acted all proper and pompous and stuff."

"In your world, yes. They do. However, here in Cards, many of the royals do not come from an aristocratic background. Only Yao, Roderich, and I came from nobility, and nobles here are quite different from the nobles you are accustomed to."

"In what way?" Arthur thought for a moment, pursing his lips as he did so.

"They act more like the upper middle class families of Earth, except they put far more importance on etiquette." Alfred looked at Arthur with wonderment clear in his eyes. Every day, he seemed to find something more he liked about the queen; his obvious intelligence made Alfred like him all the more.

"Hey, Arthur?" Arthur turned to face Alfred, one of his arms snaking along his waist as Alfred pulled him closer.

"Yes?" Alfred leaned in, opened his mouth to say something, but then changed his mind.

"How do you know so much about Earth?" Arthur's disappointed look sent him reeling and he moved away from his queen. Arthur let him.

"I visit there often. I find it interesting." Silence greeted Alfred's ears and he wondered just why everyone was so silent all of a sudden. He looked up and met the astonished and frustrated faces of the royals, which he couldn't understand at all. Francis walked up and shook his head sadly.

"Has he still not found out? The knowledge is coming much too slowly."

"Shut up, Francis!" Arthur hissed, shaking off Alfred's arm and taking a step away. "He'll find out when he's ready."

"What will I find out?" Alfred queried.

"Nothing!" Arthur stomped off, leaving a thoroughly confused Alfred and a quiet throne room. He was upset, Alfred knew, but as to the cause of his current mood, he had no idea what to think. Perhaps Alfred had done something? He held no remembrance of an instance in which he caused Arthur irritation, and yet he knew it was his own fault, as the others stared so sadly at him and Francis had said as much.

"King Francis," he called, motioning for the man to step closer and wondering just why he was so jealous of this person when he knew Francis meant no harm, when he knew that Francis tried his best to mean well. "I need to speak with you in private. Could you come with me please?" Francis nodded, just as Alfred guessed he would, and they excused themselves and hurried off the private sitting room. He peeked inside, half-expecting to see Arthur sulking in his chair, but relief hit him when he realized his queen was not there. He told Francis to sit in Arthur's chair for the time being and sat in his own; he began his interrogation.

"What is it that I don't know?"

"Oh, I wish so much to help you," Francis sighed, his eyes sad and tired, "but Arthur made me promise not to tell you. You must find out on your own."

"Can't you give me a hint or something?" Alfred responded desperately. "Arthur's been acting strange for a bit, and I know I've only known him for a bit, but-"

"It does not matter how long you have known him, Alfred. I know you care." His eyes softened and he leaned forward conspiratorially. "The room is bugged; I know this for a fact. I can only give you this hint." He brought his lips right next to Alfred's ear, and cupped his hand just as other whisperers did.

"Check your memory for anything relating to the queen. The knowledge implanted inside you is taking such a long time in coming, but I am sure that particular thing will come to you soon." They stood up, and Alfred checked for anything that had anything to do with the queen and their relationship with the king and double-checked every reference he could. Still, he found nothing, and he told Francis as much, to which Francis only responded that he should check whenever he had the chance.

"Do not give up. It will come to you soon. For now, let him cool off. He has the worse temper." They shared a smile and left the room quietly.

Everyone waited hesitantly for the monarchs of Hearts to arrive. They stood in an orderly row with Alfred taking the center and Yao standing just a bit in front of him to announce the new guests. The servants that Alfred failed to see before this day stood silently to the side, staring at the center of the throne room silently in wait.

They soon materialized, just as the others had-and Alfred really wanted to know how such technology worked, considering he was extremely curious-and Yao introduced them.

"Welcome King Ludwig, Queen Kiku, and Jack Feliciano of Hearts to the kingdom of Spades. We hope you enjoy your stay." King Ludwig was a silent, stoic man; he greeted Alfred with as much respect as he could muster, although he knew he was not yet worthy in the other king's eyes since he was so new. Queen Kiku was a lovely person, albeit very quiet, and he shared a love for video games that Alfred did, as well. He knew they would get along, so he asked to keep in touch with Kiku and the serious man agreed, saying he could contact him via Looking Glass.

Jack Feliciano was a different story. While his other two companions were stoic and rather silent, he was bubbly and so very much alive. He talked constantly of mundane things, like pasta, for which he harbored an unhealthy obsession. It also seemed, however surprising this was, that he and King Ludwig were romantically involved, if the kisses and handholding were anything to go by. He thought Queen Elizabeta and Jack Roderich made a strange couple when he first found out that they were married, but seeing someone as stoic as Ludwig and someone as energetic as Feliciano married-and happily at that-took the cake.

"Would you like someone to show you to your rooms?" Yao asked, just as he had before.

"Yes, please, Jack Yao. It would be very nice." They followed a strange-looking boy servant to their rooms and Alfred stared at him as they walked away. The boy took notice, turned around, stuck out his tongue, and continued to walk. No one else noticed the strange exchange, and once Alfred turned away, he held no recollection of it, either.

"You have three weeks until your coronation," Arthur stated primly. "You must begin training." Alfred grumbled as Arthur forced him early out of bed and led him to one of the doors in the very back of the castle. This one was made of frosted glass for some reason, which puzzled Alfred, and pushed open like any normal door on Earth would. Behind it was a beautiful, lush garden made of Spade Trees and Wehiw (1) roses, as he learned they were called. A clearing sat smack in the middle of the tangle of roses and trees, and Arthur led Alfred straight into the center of it.

"This is your training grounds. You will learn how to utilize magic and learn all manners of combat Cards has to offer. Now," Arthur smirked. "Shall we begin?"

Arthur began with a brief explanation as to what magic was and how Alfred was supposed to channel it.

"Magic, in our sense of the word, is closely related to science. More specifically, chemistry and physics. You know the law of conservation of energy and matter, yes?" Alfred snorted at that. Of course he did. It was basic knowledge.

"Duh." Arthur gave him a look and continued.

"Great. Magic follows the same rules. Matter and energy cannot be created nor destroyed. But they can be rearranged or manipulated. Magic is simply the rearrangement or manipulation of matter and energy. Follow my hands." Arthur turned to one of the bushes and walked close to it, reaching a hand out tentatively to touch a rose petal.

"Is this a rose petal, Alfred?"

"Yes?" Had Arthur gone bonkers already? That was definitely a rose petal.

"Wrong." The rose petal suddenly quivered and expanded, rippling like liquid even though it wasn't. Wings formed and a long, blue body appeared between them, and two antennae shot out of the slim blue figure. It flew tentatively and landed daintily on Arthur's outstretched finger. "It's a butterfly." He shook his finger slightly and watched calmly as the butterfly departed and flew out of sight. Alfred gaped openly, eyes wide with incredulity.

"How did you…?"

"I simply rearranged the atoms. It's all in your mind, really, the ability to control and rearrange the molecular structure of things. We will try something simple." He held out a hand, palm facing up, and a small flame ignited on his fingers. "Try it." Alfred shot him a skeptical look and held out his palm, just like Arthur, and concentrated, focusing on manipulating the atoms around him in order to create the flame. He tried-really, he did-but it didn't work. He couldn't do it.

"It's not working," he groaned, rolling his eyes childishly and pouting.

"Here, let me help." Arthur strolled up to him and placed himself behind Alfred, placing his left hand on Alfred's left shoulder and holding his right hand next to Alfred's.

"Try to imagine," he murmured, his breath ghosting over Alfred's neck and making him grow red. His glasses fogged up a little and his cheeks and ears burned, and his hand trembled ever-so slightly.

"Ha!" he mumbled nervously. "You're a little close, Artie."

"I know." It tickled. He felt his face grow even warmer, and then his chest and his hand felt really hot just then. He wiped a bit at his glasses and looked down at his hand, which was on fire and…Wait! His hand was on fire!

"Holy shit!" he yelled, completely forgetting his embarrassment. "That's hot!" He tried to shake it off unsuccessfully (Duh, it won't work, it's a fucking fire, for fuck's sake, it feeds off oxygen in the goddamn air and me fanning it won't stop it!), and he screamed just a bit in terror. Arthur watched him with amusement plain in his eyes and lips, and he tittered. (Not laughed, tittered.)

"What is so funny? I'm on fire!" He panicked. It was only natural, after all.

"Yes, but did you ever stop and think why?" And of course, that made Alfred stop and actually assess the situation. How had he not noticed it before? What were the chances of his fingers spontaneously combusting as he merely sat there? There was only one possibility. Alfred himself caused the fire to occur, albeit unknowingly. His lips broke into a wide smile and he laughed along with Arthur.

"I did it!" he shouted triumphantly. "I did it! Wait, how did I do it?"

"When I embarrassed you," he began, making Alfred turn red again, "you momentarily dropped some of your inhibitors and released the pent up energy required to make the reaction occur."

"Oh. Cool." Alfred let himself relax enough to will the flame to disappear-which it did-and tried once more to start a fire. It flickered to life right on his fingertips, and this time, it didn't hurt.

"You can control it now, so it won't cause you pain. You'll only feel the heat." Which he did. "Let's try something a little more complex." Arthur showed Alfred how to transform one object into another, although a drawback to this kind of magic was that the object he made had to be the same color as the object he used to make it, hence why the butterfly was the same color as the Wehiw rose.

"That kinda sucks," Alfred admitted. "What if I need something that's red but I only have blue things?"

"Why in the world would you need a red thing?"

"I dunno…for stuff?" Arthur sighed exasperatedly and berated Alfred for his idiotic questioning. He huffed and crossed his arms, looking for all the world like a disappointed mother.

"A red thing. Please. Why would someone need a red thing? We live in Spades, for crying out loud!" Alfred looked appropriately ashamed and hung his head, although he didn't know what was so wrong about his question.

"Now if we may continue," Arthur started, but the intercom interrupted him yet again.

"Would King Alfred report to the throne room? I repeat, would King Alfred report to the throne room? I repeat, would King Alfred report to the throne room…?" Arthur sighed and rubbed impatiently at his eyes. Alfred yawned and stretched, then proceeded to leave the training grounds and make his way to the throne room. His queen, of course, followed closely behind him, tsking as he went along and mumbling to himself about losing time and all that. Alfred stopped paying attention to his musings and patiently walked to the throne room. He knew the way, even though he lived in a maze of a castle, and he credited his knowledge to the rift's changes slowly taking place. He found the pain had dulled down to almost nothing, and his eyesight was far better than before, although he still relied on his glasses for multiple reasons, one of them being that he was already so familiar with them, he couldn't bear the thought of throwing them away. His mind felt clearer and he found he could remember things far better; he memorized an entire book last night line by line, word by word. The memories implanted inside his brain were slowly but surely entering his conscious mind, and now he knew almost everything there was to know about Spades, although the other countries and their customs were still hazy at best.

His strength grew exponentially, of course. Yesterday, after greeting the monarchs of Hearts and departing for his room, he accidentally tripped and leaned against the castle wall for balance. He glanced at the wall that steadied him and found, to his immense surprise, a humongous, hand-shaped dent in the metal. He'd grinned and walked merrily down, forgetting his troubles in favor of finding out just how strong he now was.

Alfred shook his head and chuckled lightly to himself. Arthur turned, gave him a look, and then stared straight ahead once more, murmuring silently. As Alfred walked down the corridor that opened into the throne room, he saw the most interesting thing. A stuffed polar bear sat right next to the opening, its glassy black eyes staring at the wall in front of it and its white paws lightly touched the floor. Now absolutely curious, Alfred took Arthur's hand and dashed for the entrance, brushing past the polar bear in favor of bursting into the throne room.

A smile graced his lips as he saw his brother, Matthew, standing awkwardly next to Yao, who seemed at ease in contrast. He rushed up, still towing Arthur along, and gave his brother a one-armed hug, his smile only growing as he laid a hand on his brother's shoulder appreciatively.

"I'm so glad you could make it. After yesterday's talk, I thought you wouldn't wanna come." Matthew chuckled and straightened his glasses, looking down briefly at his shoes before returning his gaze to Alfred.

"I had to, Al. I couldn't just miss your coronation. How often does a college student get to see his brother become king of a country on another planet?" They shared a laugh and Alfred thanked him considerably, ecstatic at the prospect of having his brother here with him. Matt spared a glance at Arthur and Alfred's intertwined hands and raised an eyebrow.

"You never told me you and Arthur are a couple. You've mentioned him enough in the past few days, though. I should have guessed." Alfred blanched, but did not release Arthur's hand, and Arthur went red, right down to the tips of his ears.

"No, no, we're not…That is to say, I…We aren't together. We're just…really awesome mega best friends already."

"But you're holding hands."

"Can't a dude hold his friend's hand once in a while, haha! I don't think it's weird, do you think it's weird, Arthur?"

"Not at all." They exchanged a look and looked back to Matthew, who appeared unconvinced and really much too skeptical. Was it against the law to want to hold his best friend's hand? Of course not! So he should do it. A lot. Maybe all the time. Just to prove a point, of course, but only for that reason! After all, breaking social conventions was Alfred's favorite pastime. Who cared what everyone else thought? Certainly not Alfred.

After exchanging the necessary pleasantries, Alfred inquired about his parents, and Matthew told him that they were doing well and wished him the best of luck, too. Happiness was the dominant emotion permeating Alfred's psyche at the moment, amplified exponentially by the constant contact with Arthur and his brother. They laughed at a certain anecdote Matthew told Arthur, which involved one of Alfred's more embarrassing exploits, and suddenly Matthew stiffened and pursed his lips.

"What's wrong?" Alfred worried, startled by the sudden change in his brother's expression when they had been conversing so pleasantly just a few seconds ago.

"It, uh..." He smiled, eliminating all signs of his previous grimace, although his eyes still held a strange, pained light to them. "It's nothing. Just remembered something is all." Puzzled, Alfred was about to interrogate his brother further, when he decided to drop the subject.

"Okay." They continued to chat until the lunch hour.

After eating, Yao-accompanied by Francis, for some reason-showed Matthew to his room and Alfred and Arthur went back to the training grounds to practice transforming items once more.

* * *

**(1) Wehiw is Chessik for Spades. And before you ask, yes, I did create a new language for the sole purpose of using it in this story. I could show it to you guys one day if you'd like, although it's just a bit strange and I cannot fathom why you guys would want to learn it, anyway. But if you do, just message me. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Well, I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Things are starting to get, well…complicated. Again, a big thank you to those that favorited/followed/reviewed. It means a lot, truly. And, to answer the question someone asked, yes, the magic in Cards is similar to FMA, with a few twists. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.**

"You will learn the art of combat today." Arthur threw a sword at Alfred, which he caught impressively; he moved to adjust his grip on the hilt and set the appropriate stance.

"This will not be like fencing," Arthur explained, his gaze serious and his sword flashing as he moved it. "I will not give you any rules to follow or use." He stepped forward until he was close enough to Alfred that he could have touched him with the tip of his own blade. Matthew and Francis-again there, for some odd reason-chatted pleasantly beside them before noticing the sudden change in atmosphere.

Alfred felt his heart thump just a tad too quickly, but he vied to remain cool and calm as he practiced. Never mind that Arthur had a century or more of experience. He had the power bestowed onto him by the rift on his side. He could handle it.

"Because you see, when someone engages in actual combat," Arthur stated, his eyes growing more somber as his lips quirked up just the slightest bit, "they never follow the rules." Suddenly, he lunged forward and began attacking, Alfred catching on rather quickly as he stumbled to block the attack correctly (correct forms of attack and the like were implanted into his brain, as well, so he knew how to perform basic maneuvers and block).

Arthur was incredibly experienced, and he attacked Alfred mercilessly; the only reason Alfred could even keep up was because of the changes his body went through. If it hadn't been for the rift, he would have lost within the first few seconds. As it were, he did lose, and he felt extremely irritated about it, although he knew he shouldn't have, considering the aforementioned.

"That really isn't fair," he not-whined. "You're so much more experienced than me."

"Yes, and any enemies you might face could be even better than I am, so please, Alfred, concentrate and start learning," Arthur chastised angrily, raising his sword once more. "Again."

They went at it for hours, blocking and jabbing and bantering. Alfred tried his best to dodge every slash Arthur made, but he couldn't escape every single one. He obtained multiple cuts and bruises, although Arthur did, as well, even though his were nothing compared to the damage Alfred sustained. Alfred swung wide, missing Arthur greatly, and his queen took the opportunity to slam the blunt side of his sword into Alfred's side, effectively knocking him down.

Alfred stared up at the domed ceiling of the training grounds as he laid unresponsive on the ground, ignoring Arthur's cries of, "Are you alright?" and, "Do you need help?", opting instead to simply gaze at nothing. He couldn't believe he lost, and so terribly, too. Yet he knew it was inevitable, as Arthur was better than him at everything and had so much more experience, but still, it hurt, since he always succeeded in everything he did. It was at this point he realized that maybe he wasn't as indestructible as he thought. Never before had he voiced or consciously thought such a thing, and yet, now, in the face of utter defeat and incredulity, he grasped it from his subconscious and actually thought and debunked such a plausible theory.

It hurt. A lot. He realized that he wasn't indestructible and unbeatable; he happened to be quite the opposite, actually. He was fragile, just like Arthur appeared to be, made even more so by his utter lack of experience with anything in this world and this country and its people. Encyclopedic knowledge of everything happening in the world only gave him the slightest advantage. Certain things-important things¬-were unknown to him, like how people acted and what they thought of everything and how exactly relations really were between each nation and on and on and on…

Questioning himself never really appealed to Alfred, although he did it abundantly. Right now, he found himself in the unpleasant situation of having to question himself and everything he ever thought he was and it felt extremely strange and weird and just stop it. Stop.

Apparently very frightened and upset, Arthur slapped Alfred quickly and painfully across the face, reviving him after he drowned in his thoughts. Alfred started and brought a hand to his stinging cheek, flummoxed and incredulous.

"Ow," he exclaimed, drawing out the exclamation of pain. "Why did you do that?"

"You blanked out for a bit there, Alfred. I had to bring you back to the world of the living somehow." Arthur grinned lightly, although the worried light in his eyes refused to dim for even a moment. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. Great. I'm…okay." Arthur didn't believe him, of course not, and Alfred tried to reassure him that it really was nothing and he shouldn't worry so much.

"You shouldn't worry about me. I hate seeing you so sad about something as trivial as me." Arthur shot him a look, one that made Alfred extremely uncomfortable, and he helped Alfred stand up. Unexpectedly, Arthur roughly grabbed Alfred's face and pulled him close, ensuring that the almost-king would look him straight in the eyes as he spoke.

"Don't you ever for one second think that you are unimportant. You are the most important thing to me and one of the only important things to me. You are incredibly important to your country and you are important to everyone around you." He hugged Alfred tightly, and Alfred hugged back automatically. "You are so important to me. Don't say that again."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Arthur murmured, his voice distorted as Alfred's coat muffled it. "Just never say it again."

"Okay." They stood embracing there for a while, lost in thought. A cough interrupted them, and they broke apart, equally embarrassed as they knew someone was going to comment on what just transpired.

"I believe we shall be going. I must show your brother here the kitchen," Francis stated. "He wanted to have a potcake-making competition, or something like that."

"Pancakes, King Francis. They're called pancakes," Matthew sighed. "I can't believe you've never heard of them."

"Are they even allowed in the kitchen?" Alfred questioned. "It doesn't seem like something a royal is allowed to do." Arthur coughed, placing a fist over his mouth as he cleared his throat.

"Royals are allowed to do as they please. I go bake in the kitchen whenever I have time."

"Good thing you do not, Arthur. Your cooking leaves much to be desired," Francis taunted, making Arthur's face turn red in anger.

"What are you saying, frog?"

"I am implying that your cooking is terrible, just like you. Au revoir!" King Francis and Matthew left before Arthur could say anything more, which left him even more distraught and angry. He muttered something strange about killing him and using his organs for magic, and Alfred decided it was time to call it a day.

"Let's go to bed. I think it's about time."

"But it's only eight."

"Yeah, but I'm tired, and you need to relax, mister. Let's get some rest." After a moment of quiet staring, Arthur finally agreed.

"Okay."

They trained for the entire three weeks before Alfred's coronation. Each day left Alfred less tired, surprisingly, and much calmer than before. The abilities bestowed upon him finally came in full swing, leaving him so much stronger than everyone else, including King Ivan (which left him rather happy as Ivan lost an arm wrestling match with Alfred, leaving the Clubs king unabashedly pissed off). His strength aided him greatly in his battles against Arthur, although the older man still wiped the floor with him every time. He was steadily growing much better, though, and he nearly won one match against Arthur during a particularly intense practice session. His magic came much more easily, and again, he utilized it much better than before. Alfred did particularly well in transforming objects from one thing to another.

One day, Arthur mentioned his love of Wehiw rose-to-butterfly transformations, which was why he showed Alfred the trick in the first place. Alfred snuck into the training grounds at night and made thousands of the winged creatures for Arthur to enjoy; the next day, Arthur came in and stared in awe at the various butterflies flying about the place like falling rose petals. He hugged Alfred and almost jumped to exemplify how giddy he felt.

Slowly but surely, the aristocrats-or aristoprats, as Arthur liked to call them-and Parliament members invaded the castle, staying in various spare rooms littered all around the place. It was huge, and building more rooms was no problem whatsoever, so they had enough room for everyone. Nevertheless, the place felt so much more crowded, obviously because it was, and it unnerved Alfred vehemently. However much he loved the attention everyone gave him, since he was the forthcoming King of Spades, it felt much too clustered and tight now. He only found escape in his practices in the training grounds alongside Arthur.

Alfred found enjoyment in sneaking out when he wasn't missed and studying the city surrounding the castle, otherwise known as the capital of Spades, or Capital S. No one paid him any mind, which he was ecstatic about, and he merely wandered around, observing everyone and everything that caught his eye. Each day, he learned more and more, and thanks to the guidance of some of the most helpful residents, he memorized more of the social aspects of life. The older members of society, mainly little old ladies, were his favorite, as they loved gossiping and telling him just about everything he needed to know.

"Blue is a sacred color to the people of Spades."

"Why is that?" The curiosity in his voice could not be contained.

"It was the color of the first king's blood. Everyone said he was a wonderful lad. We revere that color, as you can see…"

They told him about social norms.

"Gender is fluid. It doesn't really matter what you identify as, sonny, since we don't care nor do we ask. I heard Earth is still struggling with the concept…"

They also told him about certain laws, which he found extremely ridiculous.

"You are not allowed to drink at noon unless the crescent sun is about three-quarters of the way up, and only then; you'll get arrested otherwise."

"It's indecent to transform a dragon into a hog. Thrown right into the dungeon for that." He didn't even know there was a dungeon.

"And of course, the one Unbreakable Rule…commoners may not, under any circumstances, touch or kill anyone of the royal suit. If they did," they would say, and lean in close during this part, "they would be sentenced to death." So that was why they never touched him. Not even the sweet old ladies he talked to would get close enough to him to actually make contact.

It was during one of these days, about two weeks before his actual coronation, that Alfred went all the way to the very end of the city, where the gates he first crossed to enter stood. He remembered what he thought when he first saw them, about how the metal was strange and odd and needed to be further studied.

He leaned forward to touch it, his fingers running curiously about the surface, and stared at his reflection. A noise to his right alerted him that someone was there, and he turned quickly to face them, his eyes wide in surprise. A young girl, who was dressed in strange yellow clothes of all things, gazed back at him questioningly, as if wondering why he was there.

"Who are you?" he inquired, taking a step forward even though he knew she would probably step back. She did.

"I cannot tell you, Your Highness." A light laugh escaped his lips and he took another step forward, holding out his palm in open friendliness.

"Oh, come on. I won't hurt you." She panicked and stumbled back, and he suddenly remembered the rule and decided it was best to stay at a reasonable distance, not that he wouldn't have in the first place, but he really had to exercise greater precaution in a country where no one could touch him.

"I'm sorry. I forgot." He dropped his hand and sighed forlornly. "It gets lonely not being able to touch anyone. Everyone's scared to go near me, or they just ignore me and keep walking. They don't even bump into me." She smiled tentatively at him, her pigtails bouncing as she tilted her head to the side and rubbed her tanned neck.

"It's okay. It's not your fault." She looked down nervously and bit her lip, digging into the glass pavement with her sandals. "I was just wondering. What were you looking at?"

"The gate." Alfred smiled and waved to it, excitement once again pervading his mind. "I've never seen this metal before. They don't have it in my world."

The girl looked flummoxed and made a face akin to disgusted surprise. "Really? We have it everywhere here. I could easily get it anywhere around here." She leaned forward and brought her hand up to her lips to whisper, just as all whisperers did.

"There's a lot of carpenters here," she muttered, almost as if sharing a huge secret or the latest gossip, and while it puzzled Alfred, he found he didn't want to question it.

"That's…great." And then an idea hit him, and his heart stumbled in his chest as he thought about it. "Hey, you wanna do me a favor?" She bit her lip once more and looked around, studying everyone around her with warning in her eyes, before she nodded her consent.

"Could you get me a couple of sheets of this metal?"

"Of course! It would be easy as pie!" They shared a grin and Alfred planned out the details.

"Deliver it to me as soon as possible. I'll meet you here tomorrow and take it from you."

"Deal." She bounced away, her yellow dress flying in the air as her feet barely touched the ground and her hair found it right to fly. His hand reached back out to the metal, and as he touched it, he thought of all the things he could do with it. He'd always wanted to try his hand at welding.

After he studied its properties, of course.

The next day, he waited by the gate just as he had planned. He couldn't find the girl just yet, so he whistled to himself and gazed around, searching for her. He waited for about half an hour before he heard something inside one of the bushes.

"Psst!" someone called. Startled, Alfred turned around and looked, trying to find the owner of the voice.

"Psst!" They called again, and Alfred stared at a bush from which the sound emanated. He leaned down, eyes darting to and fro to ensure that no one was looking his way, and he examined the bush.

"Hello?" he called.

"Hello. It's me, the girl from yesterday." He grinned and stepped back as she emerged from the bushes, dusting off yet another yellow dress and fixing the bows in her hair.

"Do you have the metal?" She smirked and told him yes, of course she did, as she wasn't one to back down from a promise. He thanked her and asked her for it.

"I left the sheets inside the bushes right there. I bought about a hundred of them. Did you need more?"

"No, a hundred is perfect!" She smiled, genuinely this time, and laughed, telling him she was glad because she thought it mightn't have been.

"I left them all in a bag, so that you could carry them without anyone knowing."

"Sweet!" He thanked her once more and she skipped away happily, her dress swishing from side to side and her pigtails copying the movement. Alfred smiled fondly at her retreating form before looking through the bushes and finding the aforementioned sack. With great caution, he picked it up (it wasn't heavy), examined it, and, satisfied with what he found inside, hurried off down the street and toward the castle.

Entering was easy enough. Finding a place for the sack was hard. He didn't want anyone to find out about the metal he'd ordered and he couldn't think of a place to hide it.

He thought that wandering around the castle in search of an empty room would be a great idea. Alfred didn't always have great ideas.

He roamed the corridors and passed various doors, which he deemed unworthy, and continued searching. As he walked, he entered a hallway he'd never really seen before, and he discovered something very interesting. There was a room down the hall. It was easy to miss, and not at all attention-worthy, so he decided to take a closer look.

It appeared to be locked indefinitely. At first glance, anyway. Alfred approached it and waved his hand over it, and it slowly opened, creaking and moaning as it slid into the wall. Inside was dark, the blackness so consuming that even with the light streaming in from the corridor, Alfred could see nothing apart from a few centimeters of the metal floor before him. He stepped inside carefully, gently making his way forward, when he stepped on a part of the floor that sank into a square-shaped hole and illuminated blue. Alarmed, he stepped back, and suddenly more squares in equal rows appeared, making a pathway of sorts. A white metal table suddenly sharpened into focus as ceiling lights blinked on, blue strips of color glowing on its surface and sides.

The most curious things, by far, were the seemingly half-finished metal…things that littered the table; they looked like sheets of metal welded on top of each other with rounded sides yet pointy corners, and wires stuck out of the sides and inside of the objects.

Cautiously, and admittedly scared, he deposited his bag of metal and reached out to touch the things. He picked one up to examine it. It felt extremely light, although he couldn't judge weight fairly anymore, as he was much stronger than the average person. Nevertheless, it weighed close to nothing, and Alfred wondered what they were meant to be. He glanced over at the table absentmindedly, when something dark blue caught his eye.

With great delicacy, he set what he had in his hands down on another table behind him and gently pushed away the other things, clearing the way. A schematic made its presence known, and Alfred studied it comprehensively, his eyes roving over the lines and figures and measurements and side notes.

Once he realized what the blueprints detailed, he took one more look at the other things around him, and smirked.

He vowed to come back again and finish what the blueprint maker had started.

"Where are you going?" Impatience weighed heavily in his voice. His foot tapped repeatedly against the floor.

"To the, uh, ER. I'm still trying to fix the computers." He grinned and hoped to whatever deity existed that Arthur would not notice his nervous fidgeting.

"Still?" His eyes widened minutely and he stopped tapping his foot. "I knew you hadn't fixed them yet, but I thought you were almost done, at least."

"Haha, nope! It's taking me longer than I thought. I'd give it maybe a month," he laughed. "Or two." Arthur, exasperation clouding his face, simply nodded and told him to go.

"Be careful!" he called.

"Aren't I always?" Alfred answered back as he ran out. He made it look as if he was going to the ER, and passed a few noblewomen on his way-he had to stop and greet them as he didn't want to appear rude-before he diverted his route.

He was heading there. Again.

He almost reached the corridor that led to the special room, when someone called out his name. His heart almost jumped out of his chest and he turned around.

The man before him smirked like he was the devil's advocate bearing bad news and enjoying it. His eyes held such a dark aura that he felt shivers just by glancing at them; admittedly, they were a familiar green, but he couldn't seem to pinpoint where else he'd seen the color. He wore a business suit-a blue one, meaning he came from Spades-and had the reddest, wildest hair Alfred ever laid witness to.

"Hello," the man greeted, scratching at the stubble littering his chin sporadically. He had an accent, although what type of accent it was, Alfred had no clue. "I'm Alistair Kirkland. Pleased to meet ya." He held out a hand, which Alfred shook hardily, and examined him, his eyes still holding that mischievous light to them. This had to be Arthur's brother. Alfred felt nervousness creep up to him.

"So you're the new king, eh? You look strong and sturdy. Tell me," he stated, leaning in closer. "How is little old Arthur getting on? Hasn't been causing trouble, has he?"

"I don't think so? He hasn't for the past hundred years, either, as far as I know."

"And you? Have you been up to something?" Alfred glanced quickly down the corridor before turning his attention back to the eldest Kirkland brother.

"Not that I can think of."

"Well," he murmured, leaning in until only inches separated his face from Alfred's. Alistair's breath ghosted over his face, making it obvious that he smoked cigarettes, as Alfred smelled the scent of them on his breath and clothes. "If you ever cause trouble, or hurt my brother in any way, I will find you. And I will gut you. Do we understand each other?" At Alfred's nod, Alistair clapped his back hardily and wished him the best of luck before strolling down the opposite way.

"Wait!" Alfred called out, and Alistair stopped, his head turned slightly to alert Alfred that he was listening. "How are you still alive? I thought only monarchs could live that long."

"Aces can, too." He could hear the smirk in Alistair's voice.

"What's an Ace?" Alistair snorted and rubbed a hand across his face.

"Hasn't your boyfriend taught you anything?" Alfred ignored the obvious jab and beckoned Alistair to explain, which he did, albeit reluctantly.

"An Ace is something that's created when a human person passes through the rift and isn't a royal. They get all the perks, and their internal clocks slow down to match the pace of the current monarchs."

"Then that means…"

"Yeah, my dad was a right womanizer when he was younger. Had me with some woman while he was visiting Earth and decided to keep me. He didn't know about the stories. No one did. They were old, and most of the records were lost, but they were there."

"Wow."

"I guess. It's a nice life," he sighed as he continued to walk down the hall. "If a little lonely." Something about Alistair's explanation bothered Alfred, but he didn't want to think about it yet.

Alfred watched Alistair's retreating back; only until Alistair rounded a corner did Alfred dash down the hall and into the secret room. Breathing heavily as he entered, he looked around once more before closing the door.

He stayed inside for hours as he tinkered and examined. His eyes scanned the blueprints, trying to figure out where the builder had gone wrong and why they stopped when they had such brilliant designs. He tried to judge where they stopped in building each of the things so he could resume working on them.

The previous day, Alfred came in and examined the metal contraptions as well as his new sack of metal sheets. They were made of the same material, just as he'd expected, and he began examining them, wondering what made the metal so unique.

It was completely strong, yet malleable. The only things that were capable of changing its shape, however, were Alfred's own inhuman strength and special tools made of the same material, which reminded him of diamonds in a sense.

He found that it probably had the highest melting point for a metal in the entire universe, as well. The specialized blowtorch, which was located in one of the drawers, had to be adapted to produce flames measuring up to 10,000 degrees Fahrenheit, which was the metal's melting point. He had no idea how someone even managed to do that, although he had a sneaking suspicion that some form of magic was involved. He had to produce a protective barrier around his skin to even endure the heat.

It reflected light, but appeared translucent at times, which seemed rather odd.

After a few more minutes of deducing facts and studying the metal, he decided it needed a name. It had one already, of course it did, but he didn't know what it was. He decided to ask Arthur later.

Then he decided to try tinkering with the actual objects.

In the end, it was all very easy. He was almost finished with one. He called it a day, turned everything off, and silently crept out of the room and into the hallway. No one saw him and he wanted to keep it that way. Something inside him told him to keep it secret.

After a few moments, he walked inside his room. Arthur sat in one of the floating chairs, reading a book silently and glancing at Alfred with an air of disinterest.

"Any luck?" he asked, fingers gently flipping a page over as his eyes soaked in the words.

"No. It's pretty hard. I'm trying to find an error with the code, but it's gonna be a while."

"Lovely." He sipped something from a cup sitting atop the table, eyes never straying from the page.


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm extremely sorry for the wait. My internet was down for a while, so…**

**Anyway, a big thanks to those that favorited/followed/reviewed. I appreciate all of you who have read this story thus far. It's almost time for it to end. Again, thank you.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, nor do I make any profit from this story.**

* * *

"There's something wrong here," Yao muttered. "That number is too high."

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked, sitting quietly in the private sitting room with Alfred standing beside him. Arthur thought it best to relax today since the next would be followed by even harsher battle practice. Alfred didn't mind; he hardly did when where Arthur was concerned.

Yao came in and started discussing important matters they needed to work on, slowly scrolling through reports on the wall screen from various departments concerning the kingdom's functionality. He'd suddenly remembered some interesting news regarding police records. Arthur and Alfred listened to him attentively as he explained.

"I've been keeping an eye on the security records around the country. The number of missing persons reports have escalated dramatically within the last few weeks. And not only that, but people have also reported grave robbers. The only thing they take is the bodies, though. I don't understand why anyone would need that."

"That's really weird. I think I saw a show like that on TV once," Alfred commented. "They would take bodies and experiment on them, whether they were dead or alive."

"But why would they experiment on decaying dead people?" Arthur scoffed, rolling his eyes. "What could they possibly want from them?"

"I don't know. But the figures are alarming. I think we should keep an eye out. I'm going to tell the police forces in and around Spades to keep track of every single report of grave robbing or missing persons and compile them into a list. Maybe they are connected in some way," Yao thought.

"Hey, why don't you talk to a Seer?" Alfred asked. "Maybe they know?"

"Possibly. Though I doubt it."

* * *

When the day came that Alfred actually won a round against Arthur, he felt a weird mixture of guilt and ecstasy.

He felt ecstatic because, well, he won.

He felt guilty because he injured Arthur in the process.

It started well. Arthur had the advantage, like always, and was systematically and easily beating Alfred down. Alfred was taking it rather well, calm as he was now, and blocked as best as he could while Arthur slashed and stabbed.

Then, a strange thing happened; Arthur stumbled back. He caught his balance quickly enough-although it was strange that he were to stumble in the first place considering how graceful he was-but Alfred saw an opportunity, and like Arthur drilled into his head every day, he took it. He slammed his sword into Arthur's side, forgetting to be gentle as he was consumed within the heat of the moment, and Arthur flew back, hitting a bush full of roses and thorns and falling onto the floor in a dazed heap.

"Arthur, are you alright?" Alfred exclaimed as he ran over to the other monarch, who sat up and gazed at his ruined clothes.

"Ow," Arthur muttered. "You need to learn to, ouch, control yourself, ugh." He tried to pick the thorns out of his body, wincing as he pulled them out and blood ran free. Alfred helped him, both silently working in taking out the plentiful thorns, and only after they finished did Alfred apologize vehemently.

"I'm so sorry, Artie, I didn't mean to hit you so hard, I just-" Arthur held a finger to his lips, effectively cutting him off, and smiled.

"You're babbling, love." Alfred smiled, too, and they shared a laugh as Arthur picked himself up-with the help of Alfred-and sighed.

"I believe we should call it a day," he stated, dusting of his clothes and smearing them with blood. "What a bother. Honestly. I suppose I could teach you one more thing."

Arthur motioned for Alfred to look at his hands, which were covered in tiny lacerations, and he focused on them. His hand began to glow around the cuts, and Alfred stared in awe as they stitched themselves together. The only sign of their ever being there was the blood droplets still staining Arthur's hands.

"We call that Healing. Anyone can Heal themselves from anything. However, there is one thing no one has ever been successful in Healing."

"What is it?"

"Poison from the _P'm'ji X'vii_." He spat the words like they _were_ poison.

"The Tree of Life?"

"Ironic, isn't it?" Arthur smirked sardonically. "It's beautiful, too. The most beautiful tree I've ever seen. It lives in the North Winter Zone, surprisingly."

"What does the poison do to you?" Arthur closed his eyes in quiet contemplation, a small, sardonic smile gracing his features. Alfred watched him as he breathed out slowly, a quiet sigh emanating from his lips.

"Well, when it enters your bloodstream, it slowly moves straight into your heart. It stops it from working and it is extremely painful."

"How do you know?" Arthur's smile dropped and he gazed sadly at the dirt beneath him.

"My brother was one of its victims." Alfred walked close to him, not knowing how to comfort Arthur. He looked so sad, as if the wounds from losing a relative were still too painful to glance at, let alone feel, and Alfred wrapped his arms around his shoulders, his heart thumping heartily. Arthur would not notice; he was too distraught to care or pay attention. Alfred, more due to sympathy than curiosity, continued to ask questions, hoping that Arthur would let his feelings show enough to release the unwanted pressure of sadness he knew he felt.

"Which one?" Arthur buried his face in Alfred's chest, his sighs accompanying his unsteady breaths as he tried to recompose himself.

"His name was Peter."

"Is he buried around here?" Arthur shook his head, and that made Alfred pause. "Then where is he buried?"

"Someone stole his body before we could bury him. We never recovered it." Alfred wondered how one would go about stealing a body, especially in a place like Spades, where the castle's doors could kill you should you open them incorrectly. He realized that since Arthur was a hundred and twenty three, then his brother, not being of royalty, most likely passed away a long time ago, maybe even a century ago. The castle was probably still in working order, and the people more trustworthy of others, so stealing a body would probably not be too hard. Alfred shook the thoughts from his head, focusing on Arthur's plight and trying to soothe him again.

"I'm so sorry." Arthur muttered something that Alfred didn't catch and he asked Arthur to repeat himself.

"He's only ever been the second one to die due to the poison." Alfred blinked once, barreling ahead and daring to ask another question, this time for the sake of curiosity.

"Who was the first?"

"Ludwig's brother. Gilbert."

* * *

"So what games do you guys have here?" Alfred asked, strolling alongside Kiku.

"They are all similar to yours."

"Really? But like-" A scream interrupted Alfred, and he and Kiku raced over to see what the commotion was about. They found Feliciano standing in front of a door, cuts marking his hands, tears welling up in his eyes.

"I forgot your doors are weird!" he whimpered. "This one shattered and my hand was too close and it hurts!"

"I'm so sorry!" Alfred exclaimed, examining Feliciano's hand. "It doesn't look too bad."

"No, it's like a paper cut," Feliciano mumbled. "It doesn't look bad but it hurts." Kiku sighed and tried to calm him down, afraid of attracting too much attention.

"Yours doors are really scary, Alfred. You should fix them before someone gets hurt and dies or something!" Alfred sighed and gave Feliciano a tired smile.

"Yeah, I probably should. Maybe after the coronation, okay, Feli? Then you could come over if you ever have time and be safe."

"Grazie, Alfred. I guess I'll go Heal this, then." Feliciano walked away, cradling his hand and muttering to himself about not being able to do something.

Kiku and Alfred continued to walk down the hallway and talk about video games.

* * *

It was two days before the coronation. The entire castle was abuzz with the sound of royals, nobles, and Parliament members discussing the affair in hurried whispers, giggles emanating from everyone every time the almost-king walked by. He pretended not to notice, and was even excited that so many people were talking about him in such a positive manner, but it still irritated him to some degree.

Most of them were intelligent, although Arthur begged to differ. He insisted that their petty obsessions with fashion and celebrity love lives left much to be desired and was quite vain, if one thought about it. Alfred decided he didn't care.

_Let 'em do as they please_, he thought. _It's not hurting anyone._

Nevertheless, he wanted them all out as soon as possible. Even the royals were becoming unstable. They fought constantly about idiotic things every time they had dinner together, although Alfred-admittedly-usually participated in the squabbles. King Ludwig acted as the mediator, and he kept everything peaceful well enough, although he still grew increasingly angry with everyone for their annoying comments and fights.

"Enough!" he would scream. "Stop acting like infants! You are all adults!"

To which everyone replied, "Sorry. Okay."

But then chaos would dominate the room again and Ludwig stood up and screamed uselessly for them to calm down.

Alfred spent that day inside his special room, tinkering with the contraptions as he stuck his tongue out in concentration, as was the norm. He'd talked to Arthur yesterday concerning the metal's name. They called it cardonium, which he thought was either really clever or really stupid.

He found the information irrelevant now as he was working on completing the project. Which he did.

After having spent so little time on the things, he found it very amusing that he'd actually finished. It wasn't hard. Quite the opposite, in fact. He found it incredibly easy, and it did help that the blueprints were very easy to read.

He had about thirteen prepared. All of them were beautiful and different, unique just as the blueprints instructed. They were meant for different individuals, all of different rank, and were equipped differently. He set them down on the floor, tested each one in turn, and, giggling with excitement, placed them back on the table.

He smiled as he walked out and closed the door, his laughter barely contained. He couldn't wait to show Arthur! Kiku would love them, too. He would wait until after the coronation was complete, though. That would be the best time to show them, he decided.

As he walked out of the room, he spotted two figures just down the hall. Curious, he strolled over to them and noticed that they were wearing matching outfits consisting of black pants, gray boots, and cool red and black jackets and shirts.

However, upon closer examination, they looked just a tad…strange. Poking out from their (respectively) white and blond hair, little horns sat, black and dull and cracked. Red tails sprouted from their backsides, swishing about randomly. They turned around, noticed Alfred, and gave him a strange, toothy grin.

He suddenly remembered why they both looked so familiar.

"I've seen you before, haven't I? Aren't you both servants?" he questioned, drawing closer even though he knew it was probably a terrible idea. Which it was.

"Hello, would-be King of Spades. We've waited a long time for your arrival," the red-eyed one smirked, his tail twitching to the right as he spoke. "About a century, am I right?"

"Yeah! My brother's been waiting long, too. He's been waiting ages for you, mister. What took you so long?" the small one asked, his blue eyes wide and innocent, although they looked too old and dull for the face they inhabited.

"I…wasn't born yet?" He made it sound like a question. Sweat began to form on his brow and he wiped it off absentmindedly as his heart raced. His eyes scanned both strangers, analyzing them. What were they? It was clear now that they were not working in the castle, nor were they visiting people (Alfred knew every single person currently inhabiting the castle). They looked strange and spoke of strange things and Alfred began to feel nervous.

"Well, that's no excuse!" the tiny one argued. "You've kept everyone waiting so long."

"We punish those who make us wait, you now," the more intimidating one warned. "We punish those who make them forget about us."

"What do you mean?" Alfred inquired, stepping back. His voice trembled and he couldn't help his hands shaking just the slightest bit.

"Oh, you'll find out. Just wait. It won't be long!" The lights flickered above their heads. Alfred glanced up to look at them, and then everything went dark. Frightened, he returned his gaze to the hallway, eyes roving over glimpses of the walls.

The lights returned. He gazed confusedly down the hallway. He could have sworn he'd been talking to someone…No he hadn't. He'd never been talking to anyone. He shook his head to clear it and figured he must be going mad. No one was in the hallway.

What was this about talking? Who was talking? He sighed and figured he must be tired from working on the project so late into the night.

He yawned and dragged himself back to his room to sleep.

* * *

"_Aiyah_!" Yao groaned. "This makes no sense!" He scrolled down on the screen before him, glancing at all of the names and figures.

"What doesn't make sense?" Alfred wondered. He looked over Yao's shoulder and found that he was looking at the records Yao requested about the missing people and bodies.

"None of them are connected in any way. They just randomly go missing!"

"Weird." The continued to look at the list, noticing that the number of missing bodies was rising considerably. Worried, they began to talk about possibilities as to why this phenomenon was occurring.

"Gangs?"

"We don't have gangs here. Why would they want corpses, anyway?"

"I dunno, initiation rites, or something?" Yao pursed his lips and shook his head. Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Okay. I just know this can't be the work of just one person, though. I mean, look at the times reported and all that." Alfred pointed at few cases, all of them occurring around the same time.

"See? So a few people have to be in league or something."

"Yes, I see. However, this seems extremely odd. Why do they want them?"

Alfred shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno."

"Ah, well…we will deal with this later. Go get some rest now. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow."

* * *

"Alfred," Arthur murmured. He brought his hands up to sit on Alfred's shoulders, his fingers curling around his jacket. They locked eyes and their breath stunted, and time seemed to stop.

"Yes?" Alfred replied breathlessly, his hands sliding down Arthur's sides to rest on his waist.

"It's time." Arthur leaned up, his eyes fluttering shut as he got closer, and closer, and Alfred closed his eyes, too, and-

"Alfred! It's time for you to get off your arse and get up! The coronation is today!" Arthur screamed into his face.

Alfred bolted awake, his breathing heavy and his forehead sweaty. He squinted as he tried to make out the colorful blurs surrounding him. A big blob pushed something-his glasses-into his hands and he slowly put them on. Arthur's face came into focus and he smiled, his eyes softening. Alfred returned it.

"Come on, love. You need to get ready." Alfred started at the pet name, his dream coming back into focus as he relived it in his mind. His face and ears burned, and his smile turned sour as he realized what his dream probably meant.

Shit, he thought. This can't be happening.

Arthur noticed Alfred's sudden mood changed. He looked concerned and brought his hand to Alfred's face, stroking gently at his cheeks before bringing the back of his hand up to his forehead. If possible, his face burned even more.

"Are you alright? Not getting sick, are you?" Alfred shook his head and stood up hurriedly, his legs tangling in his bed sheets and falling to the floor as he got up. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and laughed nervously, his glasses fogging up slightly.

"Nah, dude, I'm fine! Completely…okay." Arthur remained unconvinced.

"Are you sure?" he pushed, stepping forward to bring his hands up to Alfred's face again. "I could always-"

"No, it's fine!" Alfred interrupted, pushing Arthur's hands away and walking over to his wardrobe. Arthur made a face-he looked hurt for some reason-and stared at Alfred, his eyes examining every inch of him.

"If you insist," he murmured quietly, his hands dropping to his sides. Alfred noticed that he was only wearing his boxers and a tight-fitting undershirt, which he always wore to bed. He looked away quickly and wiped his face clean of emotion.

"So," Alfred started. "What do I wear?" Arthur sat on the bed and sighed as his hands ran through his hair.

"Think, Alfred. Coronation practices, section A." Alfred immediately checked that portion of memory and searched through everything related to it.

_Coronation practices. Section A. The king and queen were to wait in their bedroom for the Head Servants to arrive and dress them in the traditional attire assigned to both for the coronation ceremony. Each monarch could choose between feminine or masculine clothing depending on his or her preference. The Head Servants will dress them in their choice of clothing and fix their external appearance. After that…_

Okay, he got the picture. They had to wait for the Head Servants to arrive. He didn't know who they were, but apparently, they were important. He sat down on the bed next to Arthur and sighed as he stared outside. I was still dark, and the wind blew in and shook the curtains, making them appear like dancing ghosts. The balls of light floated gently around the room, illuminating certain areas more than others. Two blue balls hovered just next to Arthur and Alfred, casting a tranquil glow around them. Alfred turned to face Arthur, remembered his dream, and then quickly diverted his eyes.

"Sorry," he muttered. Arthur heard him.

"About what?"

"Nothing, really. Just…sorry." Arthur looked him over again, his eyes wide and wondering as he examined Alfred.

"Okay." They looked out the window as they waited silently.

Alfred remembered the first night he came to Spades. The feeling of wanting to go home slowly left him, and he felt more at peace than he ever had before. He told Arthur he was still planning to go home, but…

"I guess I never did accomplish that," he spoke aloud, earning Arthur's attention once more.

"Accomplish what?" he asked, still looking forward. Alfred smiled slightly and laughed, and he scooted closer to Arthur.

"Remember the first time I came?" Arthur hummed as he thought and a light came to his eyes as he figured out to what Alfred was referring.

"I remember. You said you still planned on leaving." They looked at each other and smiled, then shared a laugh.

"I suppose you never did get to that. Do you still plan to?" Arthur's face became guarded, waiting for Alfred's response. Alfred placed his hand over Arthur's, which sat between them on the bed, and smiled for him.

"No. Why would I? I love it here." They didn't notice that they were getting closer together until the door suddenly slid open and two people bustled inside. Blushing, they stood up and put some space between them, chuckling nervously as the intruders exchanged looks. They didn't speak, only motioned for each monarch to stand on separate sides of the room and began stripping them down.

They forced them to stand completely naked, backs facing each other, as they were patted down with some strange powder and lotion.

"What is it?" Alfred questioned. The Head Servant merely looked up at him, stared for a few seconds, then continued to rub in the lotion and powder his body.

After they finished, the servants left for a few minutes. Arthur instructed Alfred not to turn around, even though Alfred found the strangest urge to do just that, and to keep still. He tried not to move anything, although consciously thinking about that made him twitch, and he began growing increasingly impatient until the Head Servants came back.

They each had a different outfit in either hand and undergarments to match. Alfred's servant came over and displayed a dress and a tuxedo, beckoning him silently to choose. He decided on the tuxedo, since he didn't wear dresses, and the servant threw the dress onto the bed haphazardly before walking up to Alfred. He dressed him, the rustling of fabric the only sound permeating the room, and slipped on a pair of boots.

The tuxedo was nice. It was completely white-which he found strange-he thought it would've been blue-and extremely clean and well fitted. He especially like the coattails as he thought they made him look more regal than he actually felt. Shyly, he looked down at his feet and noticed that the boots were also completely white and heeled. He hoped he wouldn't trip as he walked, considering he never wore shoes with heels like that before.

The two Head Servants clapped their hands in unison, bowed, then left, never once speaking a word. Alfred slowly turned around now that he was permitted to and looked at Arthur. His heart stopped and his breath caught and holy Jesus, Arthur looked-

"Beautiful," he whispered unknowingly. Arthur wore a tuxedo, as well, and the outfit was considerably similar to Alfred's own attire, except his outfit was blue, not white. Arthur tilted his head, his little top hat sliding down minutely.

"What is?" he inquired, and Alfred felt his face heat up, although he knew it probably wouldn't show through the powder. Still, he felt embarrassed for having spoken his thoughts aloud. He knew Arthur was…not ugly. Arthur was very nice-looking, in fact, even if his eyebrows were a little on the bushy side. But he couldn't be attracted to him, could he? He liked him, he knew that, and he wanted to hug him and stroke his hair and kiss-

He stopped his thoughts. No, he didn't like Arthur like that. Yes, he did.

_Stop it!_ he thought. _Now's not the time for me to reevaluate my feelings for Arthur. _That was best saved for another time.

"The, uh…the sky! Look, the sun's rising!" Indeed, it was, and Alfred had to admit that it looked so beautiful. Arthur spared it a glance, smiled, and walked over to his nightstand. A small drawer, barely visible, occupied most of its mass, and Arthur hurried over to it. Since the drawer was voice activated, Arthur commanded it to open, and it shot out, displaying the Spades Timekeeper. Arthur kept it in there for safekeeping since he didn't trust any of the nobles and Parliament members enough to leave it in the throne room. He closed the drawer and walked over absentmindedly to Alfred, humming some unknown song.

"And now we wait again." Alfred nodded in agreement, already having checked his memory bank for what came next.

"When will they come for you?"

"Soon."

"Okay."

* * *

His heart thumped against his chest, threatening to burst free from his rib cage and crash onto the floor. The powder made it impossible for him to sweat-Alfred guessed that was part of the reason they applied it-but he thought he would be absolutely soaked if it hadn't been applied. He clicked his heels together, surprised that he could actually walk fairly well in them, and bit his lip nervously. He fiddled with the white robe draped over his shoulders, which they'd placed on him after they led him out of his room.

"It's almost time!" the man standing next to him chimed, smiling widely. He looked Asian and had a slight accent when he spoke. Alfred had no idea who he was or why he was there, but when the servant had transported him outside of the castle, he'd been standing there, grinning. They waited outside of the main entrance, standing precariously on the glowing blue rectangle hovering over the cliff face that led to the door.

Everything was quiet. Not a sound could be heard from Capital S. Everyone was inside waiting for the ceremony to begin.

They waited for ten minutes more. Alfred grew increasingly nervous and tried to calm himself. The attention he could handle. However, he was afraid he would mess something up, or do or say something that would get him in trouble. Thinking about it only made it worse.

The doors suddenly flew open, and the flashing of cameras greeted his eyes, almost blinding him. He squinted, trying to see, and a booming voice suddenly sounded, amplified by the speakers hidden around the room.

"Step forward." Alfred paused just for a bit, trying to blink away the colors from his eyes, and cleared his throat. He walked forward, his robe brushing against the fabric of his pants, and held himself with all the dignity he could muster. With head high and purposeful strides, he crossed the expanse of the room, stray cameras still flashing around him. Everyone sat on air, blue squares like the ones that led to the castle doors acting as chairs for them. Chatter rose amongst them, and they murmured about Alfred just as they had done before, only now, it was more deafening.

Arthur stood in front of the thrones, and Alfred took notice that everything had been polished more so than usual. Yao stood beside him, a golden crown encrusted with blue diamonds in his hands. They both held themselves high, like Alfred tried to do, but it looked effortless. Alfred may have been taller than them, but they loomed over him right then. They were gods and he was nothing yet, nothing compared to their magnificence.

They'd been alive so long. Alfred must seem like a child compared to them. And he was still chosen. He would not disappoint them, not if he could do anything about it. He would make them proud to call him their king. He would try.

Silence came, and nothing moved. Yao's voice broke through, alerting all of the guests to pay attention. It was time.

"Today will mark the beginning of a new age. We have waited for years for the King of Spades to grace us with his presence, and finally, he has come. The Spades Timekeeper has chosen him out of billions to come and rule the country of Spades…" Yao continued with his long monologue. Alfred tried to pay attention to every word, but he found his mind wandering during some parts. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something shuffle, but he didn't dare move to look at it. He stood still, like a statue, but he continued to see something move and slither.

Yao began concluding his speech, and Alfred no longer saw the thing moving. He figured it must have left, as it was the only logical explanation. That, or he was simply imagining things. What was he thinking about again?

"Kneel." Yao commanded, and Alfred followed his order, kneeling on the ground before the Queen and Jack of Spades.

"Do you solemnly promise," Arthur began, "to lead and govern your country of Spades to the best of your ability?"

"I solemnly promise to do so," Alfred stated, his voice ringing clearly throughout the room.

"And do you swear to uphold and respect each of the member nations' customs and rituals, whatever they may be, so long as they respect the law and customs of others?"

"I do."

"Will you use your power to protect the citizens of Spades in every way possible?"

"I will."

"Will you use your authority to abide by the Laws and Regulations put forth by the Spades Parliament and the Monarchy of Spades?"

"I will." He saw something moving again, except this time, it inched closer.

"Do you pledge your life to your country and its citizens?"

"I do." The thing moved closer, and closer. Alfred kept his gaze on Yao and Arthur as they walked up closer to him and asked one final question.

"Do you swear to uphold all of these values and more throughout your entire life, however long it may be?"

"I do," Alfred promised, his voice steady even though he felt nervous.

"Then by the power granted to us through the people and the Spades Timekeeper, we crown you as the new King of Spades." Yao placed the crown on his head and then everything went wrong.

The thing that kept bothering Alfred slithered into view behind Arthur, and his jaw dropped and his eyes widened as he recognized it. Or, more precisely, him. It was the man with the white hair and the red eyes, the one that stopped him in the hallway with his companion in tow and said all those strange things. He grinned, his face obscured by the hood of his jacket, his tail swishing dramatically from side to side.

"Well, Alfred," he whispered. No one else seemed to notice him, but Arthur did notice that Alfred saw something behind him. He turned around, and time seemed to slow down.

"It's time." The windows around him exploded, glass raining down everywhere and on everyone. Screams emanated from the guests, and people hurried outside to escape. Alfred wondered briefly how they would get out if they had to find the steps to descend.

Arthur and Yao finally turned fully and faced the man, and their faces twisted with incredulity.

"Gilbert?" Arthur shouted, his voice rising in pitch and his hands going up slightly, defensively. "You're dead! How are you here?"

"Gilbert?" Ludwig called, running forward and stopping right beside Alfred. The other monarchs followed him, and everyone stood gaping at the floating man before them. Alfred saw his brother run over and stand beside him, his fists balled at his sides and his face both confused and angry. He looked back up.

The man pulled down his hood, revealing his startling features, and he smiled the most vicious smile Alfred had ever seen.

"Hello, _bruder_. Happy to see me?" he laughed, his eyes dead and holding no trace of the joy the rest of his features held. Alfred stood silently, not daring to make a sound for fear of interrupting.

"But you're dead!" Everyone shouted and screamed in astonishment, and screams still echoed from outside as people jumped in fear.

"Obviously not!" he yelled, and everyone fell quiet. "I'm here, see? I'm here, even though you forgot about me. I'm here."

"I am, too," a younger voice exclaimed, and the small boy came into view. Arthur gasped and stumbled back, almost falling. Alfred caught him and held him closely.

"Peter?" he called out, and the boy simply smiled mockingly and stuck out his tongue.

"Hello, Arthur. I'm here, even though you forgot about me, too. I've always been here. I've always been alive!"

"But you're dead!" he screamed, disbelieving, trying to disengage himself from Alfred's hold and rush forward. "You're dead! I saw you die with my own eyes!"

"We didn't die," they stated in unison. "We were simply…reborn."

"But how? And why? It's been a century since you passed away, Peter, and even longer for you, Gilbert! How are you still here?"

"What's the fun in telling ya?" Gilbert smirked, his eyes still dead, but more responsive now.

"What-" Ludwig began, but his brother cut him off.

"We didn't come to chat with you all."

"We came to deliver a message," Peter finished.

"Well?" Ivan spoke up pensively. "What do you wish to tell us?"

"War is coming. The Winter Zones are waging war against you all," they responded simultaneously.

"The Winter Zones?" Arthur gasped.

"But no one lives there!" Feliciano shouted, obviously upset.

"Who is waging war against us?" Elizabeta exclaimed, her voice full of rage and barely suppressed curiosity.

"Us!" Peter smiled. "We're the ones waging war!"

"But why?" Yao demanded. "Why come and wage war? Why today of all days?"

"Because of him!" Gilbert shouted, pointing at Alfred accusingly. All eyes turned to him, their gazes questioning and surprised.

"What did I do?" Alfred blurted out, his voice rising. "What did I do to you guys?"

"You made them forget!" they shrieked. "You made them forget! We won't be forgotten!" Suddenly, explosions came from outside, and cries of agony and fear stole their attention momentarily. When they turned back, no one was there. They looked at each other in confusion, and began discussing everything loudly, and it became deafening.

"Shut up!" Alfred shouted, commanding attention. All eyes turned to him, and everyone stood silently before him. He wrapped an arm around Arthur's shoulders absentmindedly, and Matthew came to stand beside him once again.

"We won't be able to make a plan if we keep it up like this!" Noticing the merit behind his idea, they calmly decided to discuss events in the War Room. They had to ignore the screams calling for help outside, knowing that there wasn't much they could do, and the emergency vehicles were no doubt on their way. It sickened Alfred to his stomach, but if what the two had said was true, then they had to prepare. Now.

Regardless, they made their way to the War Room, which was thankfully still intact. Alfred knew they had one, but he'd never seen it before, and he thought he never would have. He didn't understand what was happening, but neither did the others, and right now, he was the only one with most of the information.

They all sat down around the long table, and even when sitting, Alfred still held Arthur's hand and stroked it gently. Arthur didn't protest, but sat in his own chair at the head, next to Alfred, quiet and thoughtful.

"We have to discuss what just happened and what we need to do," Alfred began, asserting himself as the head of the meeting. He glanced at Ludwig and found him glassy eyed, staring at the table before him with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Feliciano tried to get him to speak, but it was useless.

"I take it they were Gilbert Beilschmidt and Peter Kirkland, the only two to die from the Tree of Life's poison, yes?" Everyone nodded in agreement, although Arthur's hand tightened around his own and Ludwig's frown deepened.

"Now for the next question. How are they still alive?" Silence overtook the table as everyone thought.

"We don't know," Kiku stated finally. "Their hearts weren't beating for days. But their bodies were never buried. We always thought that someone stole them."

"Regardless, how can they be alive if their hearts stopped?" Roderich frowned. "I'm no medical expert, but it seems that they should definitely be dead."

"Er, how long did you have them before they were 'stolen'?" Alfred pushed.

"Arthur had Peter's for a week. Ludwig had Gilbert's for just a bit longer," Francis answered. "Why?"

"Had they started decaying?"

"No, they-" Everyone suddenly fell silent again. Time seemed to stop again, and they merely stared straight forward. Then it started and they began talking excitedly.

"They weren't decaying."

"No, their bodies were intact."

"No sign of deteriorating organs."

"Everything was still perfect."

"How had we not noticed?"

"But what does this mean?"

"Alfred," Arthur called. "What does this mean?"

"Well," Alfred gulped. "Their bodies weren't decaying yet, even though you had them for a while. Their hearts weren't functioning, right?"

"Yes, but what about brain activity?"

"I'm getting to it," Alfred responded. "Okay, what if the poison from the Tree of Life merely mimicked the effects of death? And your technology just wasn't advanced enough to pick up on it yet, or…?" No one spoke for a while and simply contemplated the information. Kiku broke the quiet once again.

"It is…plausible. Especially since the poison has never actually been tested…"

"Then…they're not actually dead?" Arthur asked.

"But they looked and acted very differently. Did you see how they teleported without a device? And how their eyes…and then they had those strange tails and horns," Francis interjected, raising new questions for the table to answer.

"Maybe they mutated?" Matthew stated.

"Maybe," Alfred acknowledged. "They could have changed, like Matthew said, and the death-like state they were in was simply part of it. They said they were reborn, remember?"

"The strangest part," Alfred continued, "is that I've seen them a couple of times around the castle, but I always forgot about them unless I was looking right at 'em. Why is this time different?"

"Whatever they became, they obviously have special abilities. Maybe one of them is making people forget about their existence?" Matthew replied. They shared a look, both agreeing that the idea was a good one, and began discussing what other abilities they could have.

"Forget why they are different," Ludwig spoke up. "We need to figure out how they are going to wage war against us. They will probably attack soon. And we are not prepared."

"Yes, we-" A sudden explosion cut Arthur off. The ground shook and everything rattle around them. Glass items fell and broke on the floor, scattering pieces everywhere, and the lights flickered ominously. More explosions came, and everyone hid under the table as the ground shook with greater force.

Finally, after a series of four more explosions, everything went completely quiet, and the monarchs silently came out from underneath the table. Some surveyed the damage around them, but Arthur and Alfred walked over to the intercom situated near the door. Arthur pressed a button and the speaker sparked to life.

"Status report. Castle situation." The robotic voice of the intercom sounded all around them.

"Status report. Castle situation. Plethora of rooms now offline. System attempting repair."

"Which rooms are offline?"

"Rooms offline: all rooms in the right wing and the throne room."

"Shit," Arthur cursed, hitting the wall with reasonable force. "Those bastards planned this. They took out all of the Weapons and Transportation Rooms!"

"What are we gonna do?" Alfred inquired. "We don't know how they're causing the explosions or how they're even effective against cardonium. We don't even know how they're going to attack next."

"Excuse me?" Feliciano asked. They all turned to face him, pensive looks decorating their faces.

"Yes?"

"I think I have an idea." Feliciano, fearful that someone was listening in, wrote down his plan of action. They stood around him, dumbfounded, and thinking again.

_You know_, Alfred wrote down. _That might be crazy enough to work._ Feliciano beamed at him and Alfred returned the smile. It was time to put the plan to action.


	9. Chapter 9

**This is the final chapter of Time. Thank you again for favoriting, following, and reviewing. I hope you've enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. But, like all things, this story had to come to an end. It's time is up.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I make any profit from this story. **

* * *

First chance they had, they all ran outside to try to help the guests. Many of them were injured from their falls, and a number of others were dead. Alfred gazed sorrowfully as people piled bodies, all bloody and broken, next to the cliff holding up the castle, preparing them for the emergency vehicles to take them away and take care of them. Some were just splatters on the ground, with limbs scattering about the lawn and beyond it, and others were bloody, unidentifiable messes.

Some people were injured or killed by debris flying due to the explosions, and Alfred saw one of the aristocrats from before lying on his back, mouth agape and bloody, eyes glassy and dead, with a piece of metal protruding from his stomach. He walked away, averting his eyes as the other royals aided the survivors.

Blood soaked the grass, the smell of it thick and heavy in the air, and Alfred tried not to throw up. He side-stepped a leg and ran over to the very edge of the front perimeter, right where the barrier that allowed certain people to enter waited, and gazed at the castle before him. The entire right side was crushed and smoking, filling the sky with its bitter smell and blanketing over everything. It turned everything dark, and ash still fluttered away, carried by the wind bustling through.

"All of the Parliament members are alive, miraculously," Arthur stated, joining Alfred in staring at the remains of the right wing. "Two of them were injured, though." They turned to look as a commotion rose up to the left. Feliciano seemed to be crying as Lovino Vargas-his brother, as he was informed-yelled at him, and Antonio tried to soothe him with words and gentle pats. Ludwig tried to appease him, as well, but it only made it worse.

"He's just worried," Arthur murmured in response to Alfred's eyebrow raising. "He's always worried about him."

"You know," Arthur began, and Alfred finally turned to face him. "I lied when I said only the royals get to live long. So do Aces."

"Yeah, Alistair told me." Alfred coughed once and Arthur sighed, his eyes glancing at the bloody mess littering the lawn.

"He's so sore about it," he sighed. "Regardless…they're all Aces. Every one of the Parliament members we invited. That's really the only reason they _were_ invited. We never tell anyone about them. The people never ask, anyway."

"Does that mean they have abilities like I do?"

"Indeed, they do. They're not as capable as you, though. The kings are always at the top." Then Alfred remembered something vitally important, and he gazed at Arthur, appalled.

"Does that mean Matt…?" Arthur snorted and rocked on his heels.

"Yes, it does. I thought you knew already."

"No, I…didn't put two and two together." They stood in silence for a bit, trying not to stare at the carnage surrounding them.

"Does Matt know?" Alfred finally asked.

"Yes. Yao and I told him a few days after he came. He took it well. Said he liked the improvements." Alfred chuckled and looked over at his brother, who was standing next to Francis as they spoke to some of the people, trying to figure out what happened while thye were all inside.

"I think we should probably help," he sighed, staring down at his stained clothes. "This is never gonna wash off, anyway."

"The Head Servants will find a way. Trust me." They walked over to the emergency vehicles as they pulled inside and began working. After explaining what happened, they began to help clean up. The servants aided, as well, and actually did most of the work. They knew what to do.

Alfred felt stab of anxiety and fright hit his chest, and he wondered just how this was all going to end.

* * *

Immediately after picking everything up and aiding the survivors, they set to work.

"Where is the Royal Guard?" Alfred inquired, pacing about the defense room as Kiku worked with the detection systems and Arthur stood stoically near the door.

"We don't have one, Alfred, remember?" Arthur huffed.

"Are any of the citizens in Capital S trained in combat?"

"We have training facilities in the area, yes. In case of emergencies, all able-bodied people living in Capital S that meet the requirements must serve for the country. We have already alerted them of their possible involvement. We just need to know what we're dealing with."

"I have found strange signals emanating from both Winter Zones. Multiple low heat signatures have been registered," Kiku interrupted, tapping furiously as he spoke.

"How many?"

"They register in the ten-thousands on both sides and keep fluctuating. I do not know why."

"Are they moving?" Alfred questioned, a finger to his chin.

"Indeed. I believe we have a north-south invasion on our hands."

"How long until they get here?"

"I would give it five days."

"Five days…" Alfred murmured. "That gives us just enough time."

* * *

"We have no weapons. We cannot produce enough in time to actually fight off the enemy. We do not even have transportation. Everything was located in the weapons room, which was somehow _destroyed_. Now, what does everyone propose we do?" Arthur demanded, gazing at everyone angrily.

"How are the teleportation modules working?" Francis asked. "We could provide aid from each of our countries."

"See, that's the thing," Alfred responded. "They're not. They're offline, too. It'll take days to fix them, or so I'm told, and by then, it'll be too late. We're virtually stuck here. The only other quickly accessible place is Capital S. So, any ideas?"

"It all seems rather pointless, then," Ivan responded. "They have the advantage. We have nothing."

Silence. Eyes dropped to the table. Hands flittered around nervously. Everyone looked grim.

"Then…hey, where's Kiku?"

"He went down to the kitchen," Ludwig responded. "Feliciano went with him."

"Alright. Fine. Meeting adjourned until we can find suitable ideas to work with." They grumbled as they left, silently touching hands, exchanging looks.

Alfred handed a piece of paper to Arthur discreetly, making sure no one saw, or could possibly notice, for that matter.

_Is everything set?_

Arthur nodded, and Alfred allowed himself the smallest smile.

* * *

"I thought you should see this, Kiku." Alfred walked down the hallway, leading the aforementioned man. Kiku looked up at him curiously.

"What is wrong, Alfred?"

"Well," he began, "I found something really weird in one of the rooms. I think you should take a look."

They finally stopped at a door, and Alfred ran his hand over it, and it opened for him. He glanced around and motioned for Kiku to step inside. The lights blazed on and the shorter man gazed in astonishment as Alfred closed the door.

They stared at the things in quietly. Kiku turned to face him.

"Transport?"

"Transport."

"Amazing."

"So tell me…can you make a few thousand in a few days?"

"Of course."

"Alright."

Then they began to work.

* * *

"They're approaching. In a day, they will be here," Elizabeta called. She'd been put in charge of the detection systems while everyone else worked their part.

"Okay." Alfred watched as Vash and Lily walked out of the room, trying to find Kiku. Their expertise was needed for fine-tuning.

"Where are Roderich and Ivan?" Elizabeta asked, eyes never straying from the screen.

"Capital S. They wanted to prepare. Antonio, Lovino, Natalya, and Toris went to help. Alistair, too, I think."

"Good. And Yao?"

"He's with them. He _is_ the best."

"Of course."

* * *

"How are you doing, Kiku?" Alfred and Arthur stood inside the room, watching Kiku build the last of the machines that needed to be finished.

"Almost done. I just need to finish this one. Then Lily and Vash can come test the weapons." Lily stood off to the side, her brother hovering just a bit in front of her protectively, and they both nodded in affirmation.

"I heard Ivan, Roderich, and Yao were doing well in Capital S."

"They're some of the oldest monarchs. They've trained well enough. Ludwig joined them two days ago," Arthur explained. Kiku nodded once and hummed as he finished fiddling with one of the wires. He announced for everyone to raise their protective skin shields and used the blowtorch to finish. After allowing everything to cool down, the shields dropped and Kiku inspected the device.

"It is ready." Lily and Vash stepped forward and grabbed the machine. Vash placed it on the floor and Lily stepped onto it. She balanced herself onto it, and it rose off the floor, hovering just like the chairs in Alfred's room.

"What do you call them, Alfred?" Arthur questioned, his hand resting on his shoulder to call the king's attention.

"The original designer called them hovercards. I thought I might as well stick to it even though it's lame. The person was a genius with technology and weaponry, but not names."

"I see. It is rather idiotic." Lily stepped on one of the censors located to the front of the hovercard, causing a laser to beam out and shoot the wall. A gaping, smoking hole appeared in the metal, one of many littering the wall, and Kiku set to work patching them all up again.

"It's fine, Kiku. I'll fix them," Alfred assured. Kiku looked completely wiped out; he had bags under his eyes and his skin looked paler than usual. For the past few days, he'd been immersed completely in finishing the hovercards and ensuring that they could be used safely. Lily and Vash worked almost as much as he did, testing the weapons that were installed in each of the devices. So far, they were all perfect. All ten thousand of them.

"They'll overpower us, you know," Arthur whispered.

"I know. But we have to try."

"I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into, love."

"Yeah, I do, too."

* * *

After finishing up in that room, Arthur and Alfred retired for the night. They told everyone to get their rest, as tomorrow was the day that hell would break loose, and they needed everyone alert.

As they walked, Alfred hummed along to one of his favorite songs, and he nervously took Arthur's hand in his own. Just like always, Arthur said nothing, and the little tickle of electricity came and faded.

Once they reached their room, Arthur walked over to the dresser and took out their usual nightclothes. He tossed Alfred's to him, which he caught nonchalantly, and they turned around to undress.

"We need to get up right at dawn," Alfred murmured as he pulled on his shorts. "To distribute things and get them ready."

"I know," Arthur breathed. Once they finished, they sat down on the bed. Alfred felt it bob as their weight settled on it, and he stared out the window at the full moon illuminating the night sky.

He turned around to look at Arthur and found him gazing outside the window, too. His eyes were half-lidded, his lips slightly parted, and his hair mussed. Alfred felt himself go red, and he remembered the dream and his thoughts and shit, he really didn't want that. But he wanted it at the same time, he so desperately did, and it felt so natural to just let himself think about it. He thought about all the moments they shared and how he felt so comfortable around him, and how adorable he looked all the time. He thought about how Arthur was always with him and trained him and trusted him completely. He thought about how casually Arthur responded to Alfred touching him and hugging him and holding hands.

And Alfred thought, maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if he admitted that he liked Arthur romantically. He thought, maybe it would be nice.

Suddenly, his head hurt, and he gripped it with both hands. Arthur sat up and rushed over to him, grabbing his face and knocking his glasses askew as he asked what was wrong. Alfred breathed harshly, the pain worsening as words and images flashed across his mind. His eyes went blank, and the pain stabbed at his temples periodically. New information flooded into his conscious thoughts, and he examined it, and suddenly everything Arthur said before seemed to make sense.

"When you said," Alfred gasped, his breathing still erratic. "When you said you were tailored for me, that you were my life partner…you meant it literally, didn't you? You meant that…we were made…"

He breathed in, his eyes blinking slowly.

"We were made," he whispered, "to love each other." Arthur gazed at him softly, his hands still holding his face, his thumbs rubbing against his cheeks to calm him.

"Yes," he answered. "We were."

"Somehow, some way, we were made to fit and to work together and to love each other unconditionally." All the feelings he had before, about Arthur and how amazing he was and how beautiful and wonderful he was, and how much Alfred wanted to touch him, and how they _fit_ together…they were all because, in a way, they did. It bared resemblance to the concept of soul mates, except they were made with a purpose, not just due to the fantastical whimsy of a higher power.

After all, why spend eternity with someone you loathe? Whatever powers at work decided to make their lives easier by making them two halves of a whole.

But Alfred loved it, because now, he could do something he sincerely wanted to and not be questioned for it.

He leaned in closer to Arthur, his lips just a hair's breadth away from Arthur's, and he smiled.

"Can I just say, Mr. Kirkland," he murmured, "that I'm absolutely smitten?" And their lips connected. Arthur threw his arms around Alfred's neck and held him close, and Alfred wrapped his own arms around Arthur's waist. Their lips moved together beautifully, as if they were made to do so (which they were). Their fingers wandered, Alfred moving his hands up and down Arthur's torso, Arthur's fingers clutching his hair, pulling against it to make him lean closer (as if it were possible). The kiss grew considerably more passionate, and they fell back onto the bed as they continued.

"I," Alfred gasped in between kisses, "I, ah, I've been waiting for this. I just, hmm, didn't know yet."

"You think you were waiting long," Arthur breathed, kissing Alfred's lips heatedly. "I've been waiting for, ah, a century for you, love." Alfred chuckled against Arthur's lips, and they kissed and breathed together, and their fingers grew bold as they searched. Alfred's hands snaked into Arthur's shirts, eliciting a gasp from him, and he touched everywhere he could.

Arthur began pushing Alfred's shirt up, pressing kisses to his chest and neck, slowly trailing back up to Alfred's lips. Each kiss left Alfred wanting more, and he returned Arthur's affectionate gestures tenfold. Electricity ran through him, and it felt so different from simply holding hands or hugging. This was big and charged, and his whole body felt alive.

Everything heated up, and Alfred felt so hot, and pleasant pangs of lust hit his stomach over and over. Every touch Arthur gave him and every kiss he pressed on his lips sent his heart fluttering, beating faster and faster.

Only when their clothes started coming off did Arthur and Alfred begin to question the practicality of their idea. Silently, they agreed to take it slower, even though they both wanted so much to keep going and never stop.

They kissed well into the night, forgetting their problems for just a few hours.

* * *

An explosion shook them out of their sleep. Alfred fell off the bed as Arthur sat up quickly, looking around confusedly. Alfred stood up and grabbed his glasses off the table, put them on, and looked outside the window. The sun had just risen, a small, curved point of it providing enough light to see. Barely. A spark of light exploded to the left, causing the castle to shake once again. Arthur and Alfred shared look then immediately got up and dressed as quickly as possible.

"They've started!" Alfred shouted, fixing his tie as he walked hurriedly outside, his hand gripping tightly onto Arthur's.

"I know, I can see the damn explosions!" Arthur shouted, tossing his little hat back into the room as he knew it would just get in the way.

"Alfred!" Kiku called as he waved his hand to get his attention. Alfred dragged Arthur quickly over to the man.

"We have to get everyone prepared!"

"I already have! I distributed the hovercards yesterday just in case." Alfred smirked.

"Thanks, Kiku! You're a life saver." All the other monarchs ran over to them, shouting about the explosions. Alfred quieted them down, with the help of Ludwig, and told them to follow the plan.

"We need to get into positions. Go!" he ordered. He grabbed Arthur around the shoulders, turned him around, and told him, "Be safe!" He kissed him fervently, and Arthur melted into him, kissing back just as eagerly. Once they broke apart, Alfred gave him a smile, pecked him again on the lips, and ran.

Behind him, he heard Francis yell, "Did you finally get laid?"

To which Arthur promptly responded, "_You_ will be laid _to rest_ if you don't shut up!"

"Alfred!" Francis called, and Alfred stopped and turned around to face him.

"Yeah?"

"Why is Arthur still a virgin? He's been waiting for over a century for you."

"Tell you what," he replied as he turned around. "If we survive this, then tonight he won't be anymore." Catcalls followed him as he ran down the hallway.

He ran past the throne room, which was still in shambles, and sprinted down the steps as fast as possible without falling. He jumped to the bottom and surveyed the area, then looked back at the castle. The left wing was falling, smoke rising from some areas. He couldn't see where the attacks came from, but he knew it was pointless right now. Shouts infiltrated his ears and the citizens of Capital S ran up to him, saluting him as they stood in rows, just as the kings and Parliament members had taught them. They held their hovercards under their arms and waited for Alfred to tell them what they needed to do.

As he stared at their faces, Alfred couldn't help but feel extremely sad. He knew most of them would die. He knew most of them had families and children to look after, but they had no other options. Either way, they would have died; it was best to give them a chance at least.

Briefly, he wondered how Kiku distributed the hovercards according to rank. He figured he must have had some sort of system. Looking at them right now, he noticed that they were all assembled in groups according to rank, as well.

Alfred heard the royals bustle out of the castle after finishing what they had to do. Feliciano and Francis remained inside, just as planned, and the others brought out their assorted hovercards. Arthur handed Alfred one, which he placed on the floor in front of him. Once everyone gathered around him and lined up, he spoke.

"They're coming. Prepare for attack!" Another explosion punctuated his words, this time coming from the city. They looked back and watched as everything went up in flames, and children cried and shrieked, and aged citizens ran with infants in their arms.

Shadows blanketed the sky, and they finally saw what they were up against.

They were hideous. Most of them looked ugly and deformed, their faces rotting and disgusting. Some of them looked intact, but others…their skin had started peeling and flaking, and their eyes bugged out. Even from afar, they could smell them, the scent of rotting flesh and garbage almost tangible. Some of them screamed, like banshees, horrid and distorted. It made it even worse that they could float in the sky like Gilbert and Peter could.

And Alfred thought, could they be the same thing as Gilbert and Peter were? Yes, they were, as he could see the cracked horns and blood red tails flicking back and forth, like snakes ready to attack. But how did the poison work on dead bodies? How could they be alive and moving, like zombies, only worse? Was the poison that strong?

"All of those missing people…and the grave robbing. They were preparing for this for a while now," Yao whispered, although all of the monarchs heard him. "You thought they were experimenting, Alfred. And you were right. Somehow, the poison is able to reanimate a corpse and mutate it. As long as they have a brain, and a heart, and a proper body that hasn't fallen apart completely, maybe it could be used."

"The poison is not a poison, then," Kiku stated.

"No…" Alfred whispered. The things began descending and Gilbert and Peter were nowhere to be found.

"But it's time!" Alfred shouted. "Get on your hovercards and _move_!" They all quickly threw their devices onto the floor and settled themselves onto them, then hovered in the air.

"Go!" And they were off. Time sped up this time as Alfred jumped onto his hovercard alongside Arthur and flew up, stepping on various parts of the device in order to activate its weapons. The things shrieked and attacked, flying down onto them and ripping into people's flesh. They shot and fired, but even with gaping holes littering their body, they attacked to the last breath.

Alfred flew in between battles, firing at the enemy savagely. Only a few actually fell or died. And he began thinking everything was just so ridiculous. How could this actually be happening? Why would it be happening in the first place, anyway?

He chuckled at the bizarre situation he was in. What was even happening? Why were Gilbert and Peter attacking, and how could the not-poison work like that when…when it shouldn't be able to.

The creatures attacked with a ferocity that would have frightened even the most dangerous of predators. They ripped chunks of flesh off people's arms and legs and face. They used their claws or tails to carve open their stomachs and rip out entrails, sometimes eating them, and other times throwing them to the floor. They shrieked hideously, their eyes-or lack thereof-terrifying to see.

Alfred spotted Arthur shooting down a line of those things, but more kept coming, and Alfred knew he would be overwhelmed soon. He flew over and helped, knowing that he wouldn't-_couldn't_-let Arthur die. Not like this. And not without him. They shot and tried to keep them at bay, but more came, and Alfred sighed in resignation.

Then, they stopped attacking. Puzzled, they turned to look at each other and shrugged, not knowing why they stopped. A cackle emanating from between the creatures gave them the answer.

"I've waited so long, you know," Gilbert smirked. "More than a century, Alfred. All for you."

"Why?"

"Because." His smile turned sour, and his eyes colder, if that were possible. "Because I needed to."

"Leave this one to me, boys," Gilbert commanded, and they parted for him as he flew over. Alfred shared a look with Arthur, whispered for him to run, then zoomed away, flying over to the castle.

The doors opened on their own and they flew in, Gilbert slowly giving chase. He yelled cocky remarks, saying that Alfred should give up since he was beaten already. Alfred resisted the urge to punch him in the face, and continued to fly through the corridors.

Then Gilbert tipped the hovercard, causing Alfred to crash. Alfred jumped off before it hit the floor and ran, dodging everything in his way. He arrived at a corridor that split off in three directions and Gilbert suddenly appeared before him, chuckling. Alfred pushed past him and turned right, gaining speed. Gilbert flew around him, taunting him, spitting abuse at him, and Alfred grew angrier.

"Why?" he shouted. "Why do you hate me so much?"

"Because you made them forget about me! About me and Peter!" Gilbert shouted. "Ever since Arthur found out that your time was here and told all the other royals and my _bruder_, they forgot about us. They used to think about us all the damn time. They used to cry about us and wish we were here, but not since you came! And I will _not_ be _forgotten_!" Alfred pushed Gilbert out of the way and finally arrived at the doors that led to the ER.

He was about to place his hand on the door when Gilbert appeared in front of him, a mocking smile on his face.

Just as planned.

"What's wrong, Alfred?" Gilbert taunted. Alfred smirked, catching Gilbert off guard.

"You know," he started. "I never did fix the computers." He quickly placed his hand on the door then jumped back and watched as the two walls slammed together and crushed Gilbert. He gave out a choked sound as the force of the walls smashed his body, and a disgusting cracking sound filled the air. He spit out blood and gurgled, and his eyes became glassier. The two walls disappeared behind him.

He fell to the floor and coughed, too much in pain to make a sound. Not that he would have been able to, anyway. Feliciano and Francis came into view, staring sadly down at the mess dubbed Gilbert.

"Thanks, guys. You were perfect. Your plan was brilliant, Feli," Alfred complimented. "Now all we have to get rid of is Peter."

"We will take care of this one. Go and find the boy," Francis commanded. He and Feliciano dragged the body onto the chair and strapped it in, hoping it would keep him still should he recover. Alfred nodded once, turned around, and was about to run off when Arthur suddenly dashed inside, wheezing and spluttering.

"He's…come…after me," he stuttered out, pointing out the door as he squatted.

"Who?"

"Peter." _Speak of the devil_, Alfred thought as Peter Kirkland floated inside. He took one look at Gilbert's body and began screaming angrily, shouting horrid things at everyone in the room.

"Idiots! You're all stupid! How could you?" He began closing in on Alfred and Arthur, sneering at them. "I hate you all!"

"Please, Peter! This isn't, guh…this isn't you!" Arthur pleaded, holding onto Alfred's arm.

"No! You've all been so _mean_! You especially, Arthur!" Peter shrieked. "So now I'm going to have my revenge!" Peter disappeared suddenly, and everyone looked about. Feliciano walked in front of Alfred and Arthur, searching, when he gasped and pointed behind Arthur.

"Look out!" he screamed, but it was too late. Peter stabbed Arthur with a syringe no one knew he'd been carrying and Arthur fell to the floor, a choked gasp emanating from his mouth. Alfred fell down next to him and ripped out the syringe.

"What did you do?" Alfred screamed.

"The Tree of Life has chosen its new victim. I'll see you around, brother!" Peter looked back at Gilbert, huffed, then disappeared, leaving his comrade lying prone and almost lifeless on the chair.

Alfred cried out Arthur's name and grabbed his wrist, trying to feel for a pulse; he found one, but it was sluggish, and slowing down considerably. Arthur gazed up at him, his eyes growing duller, and he smiled.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice like leaves cracking under someone's foot, all dry and scratchy. "I'm so sorry, love."

"No!" Alfred screamed. "No."

"…time," Arthur frowned. "It's time."

* * *

"Alfred! It's time for you to wake up!" Alfred shot up out of bed, his legs tangling in his sheets, and he fell. He breathed heavily, thinking about the strange dream he'd just had, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. He remembered why he'd woken up in the first place and searched the apartment for any sign of disturbance, eyes glancing around until a voice behind him spoke up.

"It's me, Al." Alfred shrieked and turned around, coming face to face with his brother, Matthew. He breathed out a sigh of relief and chuckled, picking himself up off the ground and kicking his sheets away. His brother shook his head disapprovingly, his arms crossed in front of his chest and his lips pursed.

"Thanks, Matt," Alfred smiled, remembering why Matthew was there. "I owe you one, bro." He padded over to his closet and picked out his lucky clothes, bidding his brother good-bye as he headed over to the bathroom to take a shower. He heard Matthew leave the apartment and sighed, stepping into the warm water and shampooing his hair.

He thought about his dream. He didn't know any of those people, save Matt, and it was all ridiculous, anyway. Come on, Cards? Spades? What? Nothing about it made sense, especially the last part.

He wondered if the dream was just trying to take a stab and make him question his sexuality. As far as he knew, he was straight, but how his dream self felt for that Arthur guy was really something.

He shook out the thoughts and instead tried to relax himself for his Biochemistry exam. Mr. Oxenstierna might be nice, but his tests were seriously hard. He needed to pass this one this time around.

He soon got out of the shower and toweled himself dry, dressed, then ran out the door with all of his backpack in tow.

He jumped into his car, oddly happy considering the dream he'd just had, and turned on the radio. Some trashy pop song was on, one that he liked, and he sang along to it as he drove over to the campus. It all felt strangely familiar, but he couldn't remember why, and he thought it best to let the feeling slide. Only, it wouldn't, and he felt uneasiness growing in the pit of his stomach as he parked in his designated parking spot.

He locked his car and gazed up at the sky, noting with dull acceptance and irritation that dark clouds had taken over, threatening rain later on. He cursed and ran inside, checking his watch. He noted his earliness and sighed, continuing quietly down the hallway in search of the exam room.

With a small sound of triumph, he found the right door and pushed it open, revealing the spacious room behind it. He walked over to his usual seat-the one nearest the door-and silently set his things down on the floor. Mr. Oxenstierna nodded to him in acknowledgment then returned his attention to the papers in his hands.

As per usual, he glanced around the room, noticing people doing some last minute studying or talking quietly amongst themselves.

One particular person, however, caught his eye. He had messy, blond hair, peachy skin, and the biggest, bushiest eyebrows Alfred had ever seen. He sported a white dress shirt covered by a leather jacket, plaid pants, and knee-length biker boots. His scowl deepened as he noticed Alfred staring at him, and Alfred caught a glimpse of the man's stunning green eyes.

Alfred's breathing quickened and he stared at the man-at _Arthur_ from his _dreams_-and shook his head.

_Shit_, he thought. _This can't be happening_.

* * *

_**Some people say time heals all wounds. Let me tell you something; the only thing time heals is your misguided belief that it will, someday. **_

_**-Unknown**_


End file.
